The Addams Family (and a Rare Disease)
by crocodilesunlimited
Summary: Gomez Addams can no longer move, speak, eat or breathe. One day, Morticia's beloved Gomez gets ill with what looks like mere flu. Soon, the illness takes a turn. Months pass, and Gomez remains imprisoned in his own body. How do they adjust/adapt their normal family life, accounting for his new & severe disabilities? Written in script-form for Rare Disease Day. 1964-TV-show-verse.
1. Author's Notes & some Background Info

Hi chums. I'm posting on a semi-throwaway for reasons even I'm uncertain of. Maybe I'm just embarrassed that I wrote something so gooey.

Anyway - I initially planned to write a story/play for Rare Disease Day with particular focus on a condition called locked-in syndrome that my aunt has had since she was 6 years old. Not very many people have heard about it, and back in February I thought I might start writing it. Nothing I did really worked and no one seemed particularly interested in learning about the condition.

Then it sorta dawned on me that maybe not many able-bodied/NT people pay Rare Disease Day much attention because they don't have someone dear to them, or someone they've known all their lives or grown up with, develop a, or with a, rare disease. Maybe they have an acquaintance, or a distant relative but due to the fact that these conditions are rare, it's less likely that someone that they know the ins and outs of will have any of the diseases or conditions that you'd categorize as rare.

So I had an idea - okay, fine. I love the ever loving shit out of the Addams Family - and I know plenty of people who grew up with them - older people who grew up on reruns of the 1964 TV show, or people just a bit older than me who grew up with the 1990s films. Or the cartoons! People love Morticia and Gomez, and probably know more about these fictional characters than they do about some distant acquaintance who might have a rare disease. The two were even named TV's healthiest married couple by a public vote. I thought - as bad as this sounds - okay, I absolutely love the Addams Family, especially the TV show from the 60s and the musical (but tbh I love everything Addams, they're just the best of an amazing bunch of media) - I want to write something to write about the realities of having a loved-one with locked-in syndrome - I don't mind combining the two to write a fic. So here it is.

In terms of the way I've structured this - yeah, I can't write prose so well so I just write everything in the form of a script. I'm hoping that doesn't put people off.

And also - I gave Gomez GBS (Guillian-Barré) rather than the infection in her childhood that left my aunt with locked-in syndrome. I didn't want to copy her story outright. I gave him GBS also because I'm a sucker for happy endings and as dramatic a disease (and as rare a disease as GBS is) it's curable, but with a grueling recovery process - so that I can write about taking care of someone in various iterations of locked-in syndrome. From total (which I wasn't alive when my aunt was this way so I had to talk to my other aunts and uncles about what it was like), to classic locked-in syndrome (where my aunt is now and has been most of her life), to the beginnings of the recovery process (which I did have to do proper research on).

And in terms of my writing - other than talking about a topic that's near and dear to me, there's one thing I really want critique on - so please, if you're gonna give critique, please give it on this: I love the Addams Family and am also obsessed with characterization. I want to know from readers if I have managed to get the characterization right on these characters, based off the 1964 series. They are the people I'm picturing in my mind, I'm seeing Carolyn Jones's Morticia, John Astin's Gomez, Lisa Loring/Ken Weatherwax's Pugsley, Jackie Coogan, Ted Cassidy and Blossom Rock as Fester, Lurch and Grandmama - (with the year changed to modern day, but the same characters and they act basically as they would in the 64 series). If you wanna critique me, critique me on if I managed to get these characterizations right - _especially_ Morticia and Gomez.

This is gonna be in the form of vignettes, short kinda scenes that chart which day Gomez is at in his recovery. I have written this like a goddamn play because nothing is straighforward for me, is it?

Anyway - enjoy...? If you like real dramatic sickness fics, or gooey lovey dovey talk between the definition of couple goals Morticia and Gomez, or you like sad shit, or wholesome shit, you'll probably like this. Also, I did try to keep this in the Addams spirit, humour wise, but Lord, I ain't funny.

Cheers! Hope whoever's reading likes this!


	2. Day 7

Day 7

 **Morticia**

Ridiculous.

 **Doctor**

It's not ridiculous, Mrs Addams! GBS is indiscriminate - there's no real known cause. He was chronically ill as a child, correct?

 **Morticia**

Yes he was, the poor dear.

 **Doctor**

And he already has a transplanted heart?

 **Grandmama**

Yes - of a 20-year old track star, I personally saw to it that/

 **Morticia**

/But, in all the years I've known him, doctor, nothing as serious as this has ever arisen. A fair few bouts of flu, migraines, sinus flare-ups, seizures borne of brushing against my wolfsbane plant, a few concussions, several more serious head injuries and resulting bouts of amnesia... I could go on. But I simply cannot accept what you're trying to tell me.

 **Fester**

She healed him with her love when they first met!

 _The doctor looks stony-faced._

 **Doctor**

There are some things, Mrs Addams, that are out of our hands and in the hands of the fates.

 **Morticia**

But they've usually been so kind to him!

 **Doctor**

And they've been kind to him again, Mrs Addams, because as long as we take care of him, he's going to live.

 _Morticia briefly puts her head in her hands before regaining composure as quickly as she can._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, doctor, of course, but - what are we going to tell the children?

 **Doctor**

That their father's life is saved!

 **Fester** (whispering loudly to Grandmama)

I think she means "how are we gonna tell them he's a vegetable?"

 **Grandmama** (loudly whispering back)

Simple, just like that.

 **Doctor**

No, no, no. Sir - no, Mr. Addams is most certainly not a vegetable - if the results of the spinal tap were accurate - and I have no reason to believe they're not, then you have no cause to fear that Mr Addams is a "vegetable" or anything even close to mentally impaired.

 **Morticia**

Oh, my poor, sweet, kind Gomez - he would have so enjoyed that spinal tap if he were well…

 _Murmurs of agreement._

 **Fester**

I'm still a little jealous.

 **Grandmama**

Hush, Fester, I can give you one at home.

 **Doctor**

And now we're confident that he's stable, you can bring your children in to see him any time, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Oh, but how could I let them see their father like this?

 **Grandmama**

Well, you'll have to show them sometime, because if Dr B is right, he'll be like this for the long haul.

 **Morticia**

Tell me that isn't true, doctor.

 **Doctor**

Well, Mrs Addams, I'm afraid the recovery process from GBS is as unpredictable as they come. I can't guarantee you anything definite.

 **Fester**

So it could be quick?

 **Doctor**

Or not at all.

 **Morticia**

He could be stuck like this?

 **Doctor**

Like I said, I can't guarantee a thing, Mrs Addams. Right now, he is stable - yesterday's surgeries were all successful.

 **Grandmama** (musing, mainly to herself)

Uncle Imar always said just pull the plug if he ever ended up a vegetable.

 **Doctor**

He is not a vegetable, ma'am - if he were vegetative, minimally conscious or comatose, we could give you the option to remove life support, but since we know he's not, we can't let you make a decision for him that he can make himself.

 **Fester**

But how're we ever gonna know if his mind's made up?

 **Morticia**

We don't, Fester.

 **Doctor**

We can wait and see if he regains any movement - as soon as we can establish a communication system, we can ask him then.

 **Morticia**

And if he ... if he doesn't?

 **Doctor**

Then we just do our jobs - "first, do no harm" - we keep him alive until he can express that it's against his wishes. Did the two of you ever discuss what you would do in this situation?

 **Morticia**

Ah yes, a favourite topic of ours - of course, it's easier to speak about such things when they're not staring you in the face.

 **Doctor**

And what did he say?

 **Morticia**

In the case of locked-in syndrome, be it incomplete LiS or classic LiS - to ask him ourselves and see what he feels then. If total LiS, as it seems it is in this case, to err  
on the side of caution and assume he'd prefer to live. He couldn't stand to leave me, or the children. They are so dear to him - to us. I know he couldn't bear not to see them grow up, even if it meant living with total.

 **Grandmama**

Sensible. Most unlike him.

 **Doctor**

So that settles it, for now, with total, he lives. If he regains anything, we ask him ourselves.

 **Morticia**

I suppose so.

 **Doctor**

Do you want me to call for the children?

 **Morticia**

Do, doctor. I imagine Lurch must need a break from entertaining them.

 **Doctor**

Very well.

 **Morticia**

May I see him in the meantime?

 **Doctor**

Of course, Mrs Addams.

 _Morticia is escorted by the doctor to a private hospital room. There is already a nurse inside, sitting at Gomez's bedside. His eyes are open and she's administering eyedrops every couple of seconds, but his eyeballs appear frozen completely in place, unable to move - in fact, he appears completely unable to move anything, his entire body is limp as a ragdoll's. He has a slack-jawed, open mouth, with what looks like the beginnings of drool about to start dripping. There's a newly-inserted tracheotomy present - the surgery was yesterday, along with a g-tube & cath put in place, all with the intent to preserve his life. Overcome, Morticia makes her way to her husband and falls into the chair on the other side of the bed. The nurse continues administering eyedrops, but Morticia looks up at her after staring into her husband's face for a few moments._

 **Morticia**

May I?

 **Nurse**

You want to?

 **Morticia**

Of course.

 _The nurse hands Morticia the eyedropper, and she begins every few seconds to place a drop or two into Gomez's eyes._

 **Morticia**

Mon cher…

 _Nothing._

 **Morticia**

My poor, incapacitated love.

 _She takes his hand before pulling it away._

 **Morticia**

No, I won't - they told me it could hurt you. And not in a pleasant way, at that.

 _She drops more eyedrops in and puts her face right in his line of sight._

 **Morticia**

I am here, my darling.

 _She strokes his cheek before pulling her hand away again, having immediately forgotten what she'd just said._

 **Morticia**

I'm sorry, my dear. They said touch could be painful. But, for the sake of dignity...

 _Morticia takes a tissue from the bedside table and wipes away the drool._

 **Morticia**

There, my sweet. You are a lion.

 _She administers the eyedrops again._

 _As she does so, the kids come in, led by Lurch, the doctor behind them._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Lurch, thank you.

 _Wednesday and Pugsley stand in the doorway, looking stunned to see the state their father is in._

 **Wednesday**

Father?

 **Pugsley**

They said you were gonna be okay.

 **Doctor**

I said he wasn't going to die, son.

 **Wednesday**

There's a difference, you know.

 **Pugsley**

But he looks… dead.

 **Morticia**

Oh yes, Pugsley, do compliment him, he'll need all the words of encouragement he can get.

 _Morticia opens her arms and lifts Wednesday up into them. She hands the eyedropper to Lurch._

 **Morticia**

Lurch, every twenty-five seconds, one or two drops in each eye. Don't touch him, it could be painful.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Wednesday**

Can he hear?

 **Morticia**

Yes, angel.

 **Wednesday** (with some authority – almost as if fearing Gomez has forgotten who she is)

Hello father, it's Wednesday, your daughter speaking.

 **Morticia**

I'm sure he's delighted to know you're here.

 **Pugsley**

I'm here too, father.

 **Doctor**

How about telling your father something nice, Pugsley? Something to lift his spirits.

 **Pugsley**

Alright, I suppose. Father? I'm… gonna buy a new train with my allowance…

 _Doctor Benson smiles encouragingly, and gestures with his hand as if to say "go on…"_

 **Pugsley**

…and wait 'til you get home so we can blow it up together!

 _Doctor Benson's gaze darts apprehensively at Morticia, who seems to pay no attention to the very bad job he did of hiding his confusion. Instead, she nods at Pugsley, unfettered._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, I know he's thrilled to hear that.

 _Pugsley absentmindedly plays with the blankets on the bed as his gaze shifts between his mother, his father, and the doctor._

 **Pugsley**

So, when _is_ he coming home?

 **Doctor**

Not for a very long while, I'm afraid.

 _Morticia shoots a look at the doctor._

 **Morticia**

How long?

 **Doctor**

Could be months. 4? 5? Maybe even 6 months. And if we don't see any signs of recovery, much, much longer.

 **Morticia** (suddenly snappier)

Well, that's preposterous, doctor. I will pay for him to be let home immediately.

 **Doctor**

Pay for...? No, Mrs Addams, that isn't how this works.

 **Morticia**

I will not have my husband, Grandmama's son, Fester's nephew, and our children's father - languishing alone for most of the day in a faraway hospital.

 **Doctor**

But Mrs Addams, just because he's stable doesn't mean he can just immediately come home. Just look at him, he is, right now, the most helpless a human can be. He will need 24/7 care and a dedicated team of doctors and nurses to assist him with literally everything.

 **Morticia**

Of course – and I will pay for each and every one of them.

 **Doctor**

To do what?

 **Morticia**

To come home with us. We have a multitude of guest rooms.

 **Pugsley**

One even has bunks!

 **Doctor**

You want us to -

 **Morticia**

Naturally. It's what's best for everyone - Gomez simply must be at home if he's to even have the slightest chance of recovery. Our home is our castle - our last  
outpost against the ravages of the world. Our little slice of paradise. Gomez will recover best in a safe, familiar place surrounded by his family.

 **Doctor**

But/

 **Morticia**

/What more can I say to convince you?

 **Doctor**

I just can't allow you to bring him home when he's still this fragile, this vulnerable s/

 **Morticia**

/And he will only become more vulnerable should he be tended to by strangers for the majority of the day - my husband needs his home, and he needs me.

 **Doctor**

Mrs Addams…

 **Morticia**

We have the money. I will pay for it with every penny I have.

 **Doctor**

This is unprecedented.

 **Morticia**

Why do people always say that about my perfectly reasonable demands? How could you keep this man from his children? They are our world. He's said that he's lost without them and I couldn't agree with that sentiment more.

 **Doctor**

I just... I mean - if you have the money to convert your house to suit his care, then…

 **Morticia**

Pocket change, doctor. Gomez has paid more for rocks.

 **Doctor**

Well, then, I suppose that/

 **Morticia**

/"First, do no harm?" I remind you, doctor, that keeping him in this horrid place can only do him harm.

 **Wednesday** (her childish innocence being the straw that broke the camel's back)

Please?

 **Doctor**

... let us… monitor him… for one more week. If, in a week's time, we deem him stable enough to return home - and you pay for all the necessary equipment immediately - we will see about an early discharge.

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank you, doctor. We are so grateful. Children, thank Dr Benson for being so kind!

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

Thank you, Dr Benson!

 **Doctor**

Now - it's just gone nine. Visiting hours are over for today, and we must allow Mr Addams to get some rest.

 **Pugsley**

He's in bed, isn't he rested enough already?

 **Doctor**

Hurry along now.

 **Wednesday**

How's he gonna fall asleep if he can't close his eyes?

 **Pugsley** (whispering to Wednesday)

Drugs.

 **Wednesday**

Ah.

 _Morticia wipes her eyes with another tissue before almost immediately composing herself._

 **Morticia**

Very well - I will comply, safe in the knowledge that mon cher will soon be home, and out of this place. Come, Lurch.

 _She leads them all out of the room but stops at the door, and looks back at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Tomorrow, bubele - at the first moment I am allowed back. If I could stay with you, I would. My poor, kind, noble darling. Rest well.

 _They leave the room and walk down the hallway of the hospital. Morticia holds Wednesday and Pugsley's hands. Fester and Grandmama meet them at the end of the corridor, just off the waiting room._

 **Fester**

How was he?

 **Pugsley**

He seemed better last time…

 _Pugsley looks around, as if trying to make sure none of the doctors are in earshot._

 **Pugsley**

Was he really dying yesterday?

 _Morticia sighs._

 **Morticia**

Yes, darling, he was.

 **Pugsley**

So why isn't he dying today?

 **Fester**

What, are ya disappointed?

 **Morticia**

Your father couldn't breathe properly yesterday, Pugsley dear. They did an operation yesterday evening after you went home with Lurch and your sister. It saved his  
life.

 **Pugsley**

But he could talk to us yesterday, he said our names when he saw us come in.

 **Morticia**

Well, that's just typical of your father – over-exerting himself. He shouldn't have tried to say anything.

 **Wednesday**

He tried to say other things too…

 **Grandmama**

But none of us could understand him.

 **Pugsley**

Why didn't he say anything to us today if he could hear us?

 **Morticia**

Well, my dears, a few things happened after you left. One was that the operation to help your father breathe worked. It went perfectly – but, there is one thing about that particular operation. No one who gets it will be able to talk afterwards.

 **Grandmama**

At least, not for a long while. He's been trached before - for six weeks, in fact - after Cousin Slime put a pinch too much botox in his tea.

 **Wednesday**

Not able to speak?

 **Morticia**

I'm afraid not.

 _Pugsley and Wednesday both react._

 **Wednesday**

Will he have to learn sign language?

 **Pugsley** (to Wednesday – a rather subdued air of "duh" in his tone - sad that he needs to remind her of this)

No, because he can't move his arms or hands.

 **Wednesday**

Oh.

 **Pugsley** (being a resigned little know-it-all)

He can't move anything anymore. That's what I heard Dr Benson say.

 **Morticia**

And the other thing, children - is that your poor father's face must have become paralyzed overnight. Remember how he couldn't close his eyes or his mouth?

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 **Morticia**

If he could have closed them, he would have, my darlings.

 **Fester**

Just like being buried alive - except not fun.

 _They reach the exit to the hospital. Lurch leaves to fetch the car. Morticia gives him a sad smile._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Lurch.

 **Fester**

So how long's the old boy in for?

 **Morticia**

I asked - they told me it could be months - perhaps even indefinitely.

 _Fester and Grandmama gawk._

 **Fester**

What?! Well, I hope you took a stand against them.

 **Grandmama**

You can't let my boy stay in that tiny little room! He belongs at home.

 **Fester**

With Nurse Fester to watch over his little sleeping soul.

 **Grandmama**

And his mother!

 **Morticia**

Oh, of course I fought. I will buy him out of there within the week if it comes to it. The doctors want to watch for more changes before they discharge him. They've given me a week to pay for the necessary renovations, and we can begin the process of bringing him home. Children, wouldn't you prefer to have your father be at home with us rather than out here?

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

Yes, mother.

 _Lurch pulls up in the car._

 **Lurch**

Ready, Mrs. Addams.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Lurch. Come in, children. Let's go home for the night.


	3. Day 14

14

 _Eyes closed, Gomez cannot see any of what's going on. He can only hear the voices of the three people most dear to him, muffled at first, but loudening as they approach his bed. He can hear the tentative children, seeming unsure of what to do at first. However, as the conversation between his family continues, he can hear his children get louder as they get braver, approaching his bed with less anxiety._

 **Pugsley**

He looks even worse than before, now he can't even see us.

 **Morticia**

I know it must be hard for you to believe, children, but this means your father is getting better.

 **Pugsley**

But how does he even know we're even here?

 **Morticia**

Pugsley – don't talk about your father like that. He can still hear you, darling.

 **Pugsley**

Oh, right. Hello father.

 **Morticia**

I'm sure he's saying hello back in his head right now.

 **Wednesday**

Can I give him the cursed pendant?

 **Morticia**

Of course, Wednesday. Just be very gentle when you touch him, like I told you.

 **Wednesday**

Okay, um...

 _Gomez feels the decidedly sloppy maneuvering of his head by a six-year-old - with, of course, no mind paid to carefulness. He feels his head roll to its side before he hears his querida's voice._

 **Morticia**

Why don't you let me put it on him, darling?

 **Wednesday**

Okay.

 **Morticia**

Mon cher, Wednesday made you the most darling cursed pendant for you. Tell your father what it's made of, dear.

 **Wednesday**

Some string and some bones I found in the backyard! And one of Grandmama's gold doubloons she got on her vacation to Oak Island!

 **Pugsley**

That's the cursed bit. But _..._ the curse is on the disease, not you, right? Righ/

 **Morticia**

/Isn't that sweet?

 **Pugsley**

 _And_ I stapled the ends together!

 _Gomez feels the mildly uncomfortable sensation of the pendant being placed on him. He feels his wife's soft hand holding his head steady, while he assumes the other one must be what's gently draping the string carefully around his neck. He then feels Morticia's hands repositioning his head -_ _with the utmost care - back to where it was before._

 **Morticia**

A true family effort. There we are, Gomez. I do hope that didn't hurt.

 **Wednesday**

Pugsley said it won't because of all the drugs they're giving him.

 **Morticia**

Well, I suppose that's probably true. Nonetheless, darlings, we must always remember to be very gentle with your father.

 **Pugsley**

So when's he coming home? It's been a week.

 **Morticia**

I will be meeting with Dr Benson to talk about just that in a moment.

 **Wednesday**

I hope he can come home today.

 **Morticia**

Well, my sweet, today probably isn't likely.

 **Pugsley**

But Uncle Fester finished the ramp for the stretcher last night! And Lurch has been done clearing out that free space in the drawing room for ages! The bird cages are all next door to me now.

 **Morticia**

Yes, but until Dr Benson is totally sure, we can't bring your father anywhere.

 **Wednesday**

Why?

 **Morticia**

It's too dangerous.

 **Wednesday**

But father loves danger!

 **Morticia**

Oh, my sweet child – some day you will learn that for one reason or another, not everybody in this world appreciates danger the way an Addams does.

 **Pugsley**

Tomorrow?

 **Morticia**

Maybe tomorrow, darling, if our meeting goes well.

 _Rap-rap-rap._

 _That's a knock on the door. Gomez recognizes the sound all too well after two weeks._

 **Morticia**

There he is now.

 **Doctor**

Hello, Mrs Addams. Hi kids.

 **Morticia**

Say goodbye to your father and run along outside to Lurch now, children.

 **Wednesday**

Goodbye father, see you tomorrow!

 **Pugsley**

See you tomorrow, father.

 **Morticia**

And?

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

 _I love you._

 **Morticia**

Very good. Off you go now.

 _Clunk! Was that the door again?, Gomez thinks._

 **Doctor**

Mrs Addams – so as you know I'm here to talk about your husband's progress over the past seven days.

 _Gomez is right. Ah, yes, he thinks - it's the doctor._

 **Morticia**

With relation to him possibly being discharged soon, I do hope.

 **Doctor**

Yes, that's right. With that said, our inspector from the preliminary care team was satisfied with the renovations made to your house. He told me there are five spare beds?

 **Morticia**

And more should you need them.

 **Doctor**

No, Mrs Addams, that should be more than enough – thank you. I'll keep a note of that. So...

 **Morticia**

So?

 **Doctor**

Obviously this goes without saying but in this past week, the biggest change in your husband's condition has been in his eyelids.

 **Morticia**

Yes.

 **Doctor**

Since it is no longer painful for them to be closed, we're keeping them that way until he regains the ability to open and close them himself.

 **Morticia**

And you're confident he will?

 **Doctor**

Of course, I can't guarantee you _anything_ – _either of you_ – but statistics _do_ show that regaining eyelid movement _is_ a likely possibility for your husband.

 **Morticia** _(sounding delighted - Gomez feels the touch of her hand against his as she speaks. It doesn't hurt.)_

 _Oh, Gomez…_ when - when can we expect that?

 **Doctor**

Again, I can't predict anything with the utmost certainty – but I would say, if his GBS follows the patterns I've seen before, sooner rather than later.

 **Morticia**

My darling, did you hear that? Sooner rather than later. With your eyelids back, we may soon be able to play 20 questions with the children once again.

 **Doctor**

Mrs Addams – why don't I bring you to meet the care team I'm assigning to your husband's home care? It'll only take a few minutes but I want to make sure you approve of them all before I confirm my selections. You obviously know Mr Addams better than anyone. You will know if my choices fit his needs sufficiently.

 **Morticia**

Of course.

My love – I will only be a moment. I'll send Fester in to keep you company, darling. Just one moment, and I will be at your side again.

 _Clunk! Gomez knows this as the sound of the door closing._

 _Alone again._


	4. Day 17

17

 _Fester, Lurch, Grandmama and Morticia stand at the front door to their house, watching the back doors of the ambulance be flung open by Nurse Fox and Nurse Hatten. Grandmama holds Morticia's hand. Fester sees this, and holds Lurch's hand. Lurch stares, but doesn't resist. Doctor Benson appears from inside the house, and meets the Addams Family by the front door._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Should be ready to bring him in now.

 _Lurch grunts as Doctor Benson appears._

 **Dr. Benson**

Ah, is something the matter, Mr…?

 **Lurch**

Lurch.

 **Morticia**

No, Dr. Benson – he's just emotional. Dear Lurch has been working for the Addams Family since my husband was a boy.

 **Dr**. **Benson**

Oh.

 _Dr. Benson shrugs it off._

 **Dr. Benson**

Well… yeah. Like I said. We're going to start moving him in now.

 **Fester**

Wait – before ya do – how'd you like our guest rooms?

 **Morticia**

Fester and Grandmama put _so_ much time and effort into sprucing them up for the care team.

 **Fester**

Hope ya like plants.

 **Dr**. **Benson**

Sure, yes – why not?

 **Morticia**

Ah, we have potted baby African Stranglers in each room!

 **Dr.** **Benson**

African _what_?

 **Grandmama**

And a minifridge.

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Oh, that sounds/

 **Grandmama**

Got it all stocked up for you – my son's heroes. You deserve nothing less than the royal treatment.

 **Fester**

A real Addams welcome!

 **Grandmama**

Instant yak, preserved lion loins, a frozen toadstool omelette – just heat it up in the fire pit, hemlock jam, extract of/

 **Dr.** **Benson**

/Well, thank you, but/

 **Grandmama**

/Wait, there's still the/

 **Dr.** **Benson**

/We can talk all about it later. Right now, let's get Mr. Addams into the drawing room.

 **Morticia**

Dr. Benson is right, Grandmama. Gomez first, room service later.

 _Grandmama nods – maybe a bit put out, and watches as Dr. Benson begins to walk down the driveway to the ambulance. Dr. Benson gestures for the family to follow._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Would you prefer your children to see this or not?

 **Morticia**

Ah, yes. A good question, doctor. I suppose I had always assumed they would insist. Why don't you go fetch them, Lurch?

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Uh, actually, keep Mr… _Lurch_ right here. He may be able to help us manoeuvre the patient if it gets to be a challenge.

 **Fester**

Oh, that isn't fair. He's not _fat_. Maybe a little around the face, but I've lifted him before, and/

 **Dr.** **Benson** _(to Fester)_

/How about _you_ get the children?

 **Fester**

Fine, you've convinced me.

 _Fester turns back and heads into the house, yelling for the children._

 _Dr. Benson and the others have reached the back door of the ambulance. Nurses Fox and Hatten are waiting inside, ready to transport Gomez out of the vehicle._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Patient looking good?

 **Morticia**

Always, doctor, though I'm not sure why you're/

 **Nurse** **Fox**

/Patient is stable. Ready when you are.

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Okay – onto the ramp, then.

 **Nurse** **Hatten**

Unlocking the gurney now.

 _From outside the ambulance looking in, Morticia, Lurch and Grandmama can see the two nurses wheel Gomez's gurney over to the lowering platform. Even though they know that Gomez is on the gurney, they can't see his body under all the padding from where they're standing. Nurse Fox holds the gurney in place, locking the wheels down. Nurse Hatten, in turn, moves several of the different pieces of life-support equipment (such as the ventilator) onto the platform too, trying to keep them connected to Gomez at all times._

 **Nurse** **Hatten**

Okay – ready to lower. On three. One, two, three.

 _Nurse Fox reaches to press a button inside the ambulance, and as soon as it's pressed, the platform lowers. Going slowly, the two nurses hold on to the gurney and the ventilator, keeping both stable as the platform reaches the ground. As Nurse Fox unlocks the gurney's front wheels, Morticia and Dr. Benson move quickly over to it. Morticia leans over the gurney, to look at her husband and to ensure everything seems alright._

 _Morticia sees her husband, his face more or less unchanged. Eyes still closed, mouth still open and slack-jawed, Gomez is secured to the gurney by several restraints, the largest of which is made of padding and affixes his head and neck completely in place (as so not to detach the ventilator). Little change has happened in the three days it's been since we last checked in. A modest brown blanket covers the rest of Gomez's body below the neck._

 **Morticia**

Darling? We're home. We're bringing you inside now.

 _Dr. Benson unlocks the back wheels. Together, him and the two nurses begin to move the gurney and the ventilator down the path and into the home. Morticia and the others follow behind them, with Morticia right at the gurney's side, looking at her husband's face, speaking to him constantly._

 **Morticia**

And Lurch has done the most _marvellous_ job of clearing the drawing room to accommodate you. It seems like an entirely different room, what with all the empty space. The bed has already arrived and is ready for you, my darling.

 _Fester and the children appear at the open front door. The three of them immediately start down the path, with Fester attempting and failing to control the kids when they see their parents approaching._

 **Morticia**

Ah, Gomez, the children are here to welcome you home.

 **Fester**

Come now, kids, let's move outta the way, your father's got places to be.

 _Fester gestures for Wednesday and Pugsley to follow him, and steps out of the way of the gurney as it's pushed through the front door. They then follow behind it as it passes them. Through the living area and the conservatory they go, looking to reach the drawing room._

 **Wednesday**

I can't see him!

 **Grandmama**

Well, it's definitely your father, Wednesday, so don't you worry.

 **Wednesday**

Does he look better?

 **Grandmama**

Heavens, no. Looking much the same as last night.

 **Pugsley** _(disappointed)_

Really?

 **Morticia**

Remember, children, what I said about speaking about your father as if he can't hear you?

 **Pugsley**

Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, father.

 **Wednesday**

Sorry.

 **Morticia**

That's alright, children. I'm sure he doesn't mind.

 **Grandmama**

Just probably glad to be home, I'd say.

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Where is the drawing room?

 **Lurch**

Left.

 _At this, Lurch points to a door on the left rather abruptly. The nurses and Dr Benson stop in their tracks, and slowly rotate the gurney around so that it can get through._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Thank you, Mr Lurch.

 **Lurch**

Lurch.

 **Fester**

I'll head in first.

 _Fester goes through first, guiding the group of people inside, and leading the medical team over beside the newly installed hospital bed, gurney and equipment in tow. It's in the centre-back of the room, against the wall. There is a large window on the wall opposite it, where, should Gomez be able to open his eyes, he'd get a lovely view of the cemetery. The room's furniture has been completely reset and moved about to ensure that Gomez gets this picturesque view._

 _The gurney is right up beside the hospital bed now. Dr Benson takes a look around._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Alright – um, _Lurch_ – if you could take the other end of the blanket in just a moment, to help us out. Nurses, action time. Let's go.

 _The two nurses begin removing all the restraints. They remove the restraints on his legs, his chest and most carefully, around his head and neck. Then, once they've all been removed, Nurse Hatten holds the ventilator/tracheotomy tube in place, just to make sure no accidents happen. Nurse Fox positions the ventilator in its new home on the bedside table, which has been empty before now._

 **Nurse** **Hatten**

Ready.

 **Dr.** **Benson**

On three – one, two, three.

 _Dr Benson and Lurch take a hold of either end of the brown blanket Gomez has been wrapped in – Dr Benson taking the side that finishes just at Gomez's neck, stretching it out fully so that his head doesn't flop off the blanket, and Lurch taking the side that Gomez's legs and feet are covered with._

 _The two lift this bundle of blankets, Gomez and all, off of the gurney and gently place it onto the bed. Dr Hatten also holds Gomez's neck, keeping the vent connected. The three awkwardly manage the three-man task of placing him on the bed. All but Dr Benson take a step back._

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Perfect job. Right, let's unroll him.

 _Dr Benson begins to unwrap Gomez out of the blanket bundle, leaving his now-exposed body (wearing a standard white and blue hospital gown underneath) uncovered. As Dr Benson does this, Morticia rushes over to the cupboard on the other side of the bed, and produces a much heavier blanket, which she drapes over her husband immediately, carefully tucking him in as best she can given the crowd around her. Fester opens another cupboard, and from it, Thing hands him two pillows. Fester takes the pillows, and throws them to Morticia._

 **Fester**

Thanks, Fingers.

 _Morticia catches the pillows. She moves to stand in front of the medical team, right up beside Gomez. With her other hand, she gently lifts up her husband's head, and slips the pillows underneath. His head doesn't roll to one side or fall forward, but just sinks into the pillows and stays in place first try. She turns around._

 **Morticia**

All done, my love. Now – I'm sure you remember, but you're in the drawing room, in case you've forgotten. I'm going to give you a little look, just so you can see the wonderful job everyone has done for you.

 _Morticia leans in and lifts Gomez's eyelids for a few seconds, showing him his view from the bed, the faces of his family members craning their necks to get into his line of sight, the view of the cemetery – but most importantly, the comforting sight of familiarity. Morticia gently holds his eyes open for about five seconds before gently letting them close again._

 **Morticia** _(turning to Dr. Benson)_

Now. Are we done?

 **Dr.** **Benson**

How do you mean?

 **Morticia**

This was the final part of the transferral process, was it not?

 _Doctor Benson nods, brow furrowed._

 **Morticia**

Can you leave us as a family for just a few moments?

 _Doctor Benson seems a little freaked out by the prospect of wandering the house without an Addams to guide him._

 **Dr.** **Benson** _(professional courtesy taking over)_

Oh, of course, yes. Absolutely. I can show the night shift nurses the guest rooms.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful! Thank you all, of course. You've done a truly impeccable job. I just think that a few minutes alone as a family might be beneficial to all of us.

 **Dr.** **Benson**

Absolutely. I'll give these guys the tour. C'mon.

 _Dr. Benson gestures for the other two to follow him, and they all slip out the door, closing it carefully behind them. A whimper can be heard in the distance as the three doctors leave the Addamses alone._

 _Morticia turns to the rest of the family, all of whom are still crowded around the bed, looking at Gomez and at one another._

 **Fester**

Well, Morticia, ya did it.

 **Grandmama**

They said it couldn't be done, but you did.

 **Morticia**

There is nothing an Addams can't do.

 **Fester** _(looking at Gomez)_

Well, I wouldn't say _that_.

 **Morticia**

Ah. Yes. Well, perhaps an unfortunate wording, but/

 **Wednesday**

/Mother?

 **Morticia**

Yes?

 **Wednesday**

Are those nurses really staying with us?

 **Pugsley**

Yeah, in the room across from mine.

 **Morticia**

Yes, darling, they are.

 **Wednesday**

Why?

 **Morticia**

Because someone will need to be here with your father at all times – and/

 **Wednesday**

/Can't you?

 _Morticia sighs._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Wednesday, I wish I could. But there will be moments where I'll have to attend to other matters. Eating dinner, preparing all your father's medications, talking with the medical team about therapies we might use to help him get better. And I'll need to sleep.

 _Wednesday seems a bit jaded._

 **Wednesday**

How long will they stay for?

 **Morticia**

We don't know, dear. It could be quite a while.

 **Fester**

Or not.

 **Morticia**

Or not, yes. But I can't make any promises, alright?

 _Wednesday sulks._

 **Morticia** _(aghast)_

 _Wednesday_ , do not sulk in front of your father. He's been through enough already to have to come home to a house with a sulking daughter. We must show him our utmost love and support, remember?

 **Grandmama**

I don't know about that, Morticia. For all we know, Gomez might be sulking too.

 **Fester**

Well, _I'm_ certainly sulking. Lurch, are _you_ sulking?

 _Lurch groans._

 _There is a knock from a hatbox on the other side of the room. Grandmama shuffles over to open it, and Thing emerges. Thing points at the bed, and then gestures to the box he's in._

 **Grandmama**

Thing's just told me he's feeling rather left out. He'd much prefer to be closer to the bed.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _dear_ Thing. Yes, of course. You want to be closer to Gomez when you come to visit him.

 _Thing nods his hand very definitively._

 **Morticia**

Of course, of course. Lurch, remember to locate a box we might be able to place on that other bedside table.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Now – children. All of you are permitted to visit your father at any time, even in the middle of the night if you wish. I have checked with the nurses who tell me he sees no problems with it as long as you promise to be very careful with him. Alright? You do promise?

 **Wednesday** / **Pugsley**

Yes, mother.

 **Morticia**

Should you need him, you'll know where he is.

 **Fester**

Gotta say I'm not sure what you'd need him _for_ , but/

 **Morticia**

/ _Fester!_ Now's not the time for jokes. Gomez could very well still be needed for a myriad of reasons around this house. After all – he can still do the most important thing a father can do for his children: listen.

 **Fester**

Aw, but listening's hard. When someone comes to me with a problem, I just give 'em that old reliable nugget of advice. You've just gotta shoot 'em in the b/

 **Grandmama**

/ _How about_ we adults take turns with caregiving? He's my son, I've got to do my bit. Can't all just fall on the wife and the professionals.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _mama_ , that's so very kind of you. Yes, of course, and I'm sure Gomez would appreciate it greatly too. To have the woman who cared for him as a child to care for him again in this hour of great need.

 **Fester**

Well, he's _my_ favourite nephew. I'd just be a bad uncle if I didn't help too. You two've been so good to me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Fester, bless your kind heart. I'll add your name to the roster.

 **Fester**

Just make sure it's before I mud-wrestle with Kittycat. Don't wanna spread an infection.

 **Lurch**

Me too.

 _Everyone's attention shifts suddenly to Lurch._

 **Morticia**

You too, Lurch?

 **Lurch**

Of course.

 **Morticia**

Why, this truly _is_ shaping into a family effort. Lurch, dear, thank you. Gomez, I do hope you're hearing this, my darling. Everyone is volunteering their time to care for you.

 **Wednesday** / **Pugsley**

We'll help too!

 _Morticia looks at the children._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darlings. How thoughtful. Though I'm afraid you may be a touch too young to add to the roster.

 **Pugsley**

But mother, I don't want to be left out!

 **Morticia**

Sweet Pugsley. You can care for your father by simply sitting with him, and chatting about whatever it is you two like to chat about, man-to-man. And Wednesday, dear, the same goes for you. Whatever it is you like to talk to him about – dynamite, your guillotine, how you're getting on in school, your flesh-eating ant farm – _anything at all_ \- the best thing you could do for your father would be to just keep up those lovely chats, as if nothing has changed.

 **Wednesday**

I think the best thing I could do would be to cure his disease.

 **Morticia** _(kinda stabbed in the heart by the kid-logic of her answer)_

Oh, _Wednesday_. _Yes_ , I know, darling, I wish I could too. But what's happened to your father isn't the kind of disease that just goes away if you give him the right medicine. We just have to wait and see. For now, we must talk to him as if nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.

 **Wednesday**

But it did, he can't talk.

 **Morticia**

 _Thing_ can't talk and you seem to have _no trouble_ having chats with him.

 _Wednesday considers this._

 **Morticia**

Will you promise, the both of you, to _try_ , at the very least?

 _Pugsley and Wednesday nod._

 **Wednesday** / **Pugsley**

Yes, mother.

 **Morticia**

So what are you going to do?

 **Pugsley**

Talk to father about anything at all, just like normal.

 **Morticia**

Very good. Now. Thing? Could you meet the children in the living room? I'd like to draw up a roster.

 _Thing gives the "okay" gesture, and descends back into his box._

 **Morticia**

Run along now, children. Just for a few minutes, you can come back very soon. Just allow us to talk amongst ourselves for a short while, yes?

 _Wednesday and Pugsley scamper out the door, heading into the living room to meet Thing. They close the door behind them._

 **Grandmama**

They're bright kids.

 **Morticia**

Perhaps too bright for their own good. The poor dears seem distraught.

 **Fester**

You think?

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. Even if they don't understand every medical detail, they need not but look and see their father to understand everything they need to know.

 **Grandmama**

They're resilient, though. They're Addams kids.

 **Morticia**

You're right, of course, _mama_. But Gomez frets about them so. I know he wouldn't want them to be suffering like this. Isn't that right, darling?

 _Morticia says this, in no anticipation of a response. She's just good at keeping him included._

 **Fester**

So, what about this roster of ours?

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. The roster. Well – let's discuss what hour-long slots on which particular days might fit your busy schedules best, yes?

 _Morticia, Lurch, Fester and Grandmama, all gathered around Gomez's bed, begin to iron out the roster._

 _Meanwhile, in the living room, Thing, from his usual haunt, throws an iron ball with Pugsley and Wednesday, playing catch._

 **Wednesday**

Why won't she let us be nurses, Pugsley?

 **Pugsley**

We're too young. I guess we have to go to nursing school first.

 **Wednesday**

But Uncle Fester never went to any school at all.

 **Pugsley**

Oh yeah. He told me how he _bought_ all those diplomas in his bedroom.

 **Wednesday**

Why can't I be a nurse for father? Nurses take care of sick people.

 **Pugsley**

Yeah?

 **Wednesday**

When I was sick, father took care of _me_.

 **Pugsley**

 _And_ me.

 **Wednesday**

So why can't _we_ take care of _him_?

 **Pugsley**

Maybe because mother doesn't think we know what nurses do.

 **Wednesday**

They take care of sick people.

 **Pugsley**

And they…

 _Pugsley ponders this._

 **Pugsley**

Okay, so maybe I don't know what nurses do.

 **Wednesday**

I bet we'd be good at it.

 **Pugsley**

Whatever it is.

 **Wednesday**

Mother said we had to be careful with father. Maybe nurses have to be careful.

 **Pugsley**

I don't know what she's talking about, saying no to us. We're both really careful.

 _Pugsley drops the iron ball, denting the wooden floor. He picks it up, nonchalantly._

 **Wednesday**

Why do we have to be careful?

 **Pugsley**

I think because of the wires.

 **Wednesday**

The wires?

 **Pugsley**

The doctors put wires in him, remember?

 **Wednesday**

You mean medical-grade tubing?

 **Pugsley**

Yeah, that. How'd you know what it's called?

 **Wednesday**

The Encyclopaedia of Death that Santa Claus brought me.

 **Pugsley**

Cool.

 **Wednesday**

There's a whole picture section of life-support machines. My favourite is the ventilator. The one father is on looks like plastic, but the one in the book was shiny.

 **Pugsley**

Neat.

 **Wednesday**

The one in the book was better.

 **Pugsley**

I bet father's one would be shiny if you scraped all the paint off.

 **Wednesday**

We should ask him if we could/

 _Wednesday stops._

 **Pugsley**

/We can't, Wednesday.

 **Wednesday**

We could ask mother.

 **Pugsley**

She's too busy right now with her "roster".

 **Wednesday**

We should tell her that we would _never_ pull out the medical-grade tubing if _we_ were father's nurses.

 **Pugsley**

I bet she'd find another reason to say no.

 **Wednesday**

All I wanna do is help.

 **Pugsley**

Yeah, me too.

 **Wednesday**

Wait.

 **Pugsley**

What?

 **Wednesday**

We could say we're going in to see father, just to talk like normal, but then, when we go in, we can be nurses instead!

 _Pugsley's eyes go wide._

 **Pugsley**

Why didn't I think of that?

 **Wednesday**

When will we do it?

 **Pugsley**

Not right away, I have to buy a diploma first.

 _Thing, who has the iron ball, doesn't throw it. Instead, he slinks back down into his box as Lurch, Fester and Grandmama appear._

 **Fester**

Well, kids, we got that one sorted mighty fast.

 **Grandmama**

We let your mother and father have some time alone together.

 **Lurch**

Privacy.

 **Wednesday**

Did she talk about us?

 **Grandmama**

Just what little angels you are.

 _Wednesday looks at Pugsley, relieved._

 **Wednesday** _(whispering to Pugsley, really loudly)_

I guess they didn't hear us.

 _Pugsley gives her an equally obvious thumbs-up._

 **Fester**

Now, kids. Who wants to watch Grandmama square up against the crocodile?

 _Wednesday and Pugsley light up. Lurch groans._

 **Fester**

C'mon, kids. Wanna bring things back to normal 'round here for a little while. Let's have us a good old fashioned tussle.

 _Fester gestures for the kids to follow him out to the moat, where some real shit's about to go down between the crocodile and Grandmama._

 _Meanwhile, right after Fester, Lurch and Grandmama have left the drawing room, leaving Morticia to be alone with Gomez…_

 _She watches the door click shut, and then turns her gaze back to her husband. She pulls a chair up beside the bed. She sits in the chair, and watches her husband's eerie stillness for a few moments, well aware that despite looking dead to the world, he's present and listening. She strokes his face as softly as she can feasibly manage. She doesn't want to hurt him._

 **Morticia**

Darling… does it feel better? Knowing you're back, safe, in our own home? No more "visiting hours". I will be at your beck and call, whenever you need me.

 _Morticia looks at her husband, examining every single inch of his face for any movement. She sees nothing, but didn't expect to._

 **Morticia**

Ah, my mad Castilian. Yesterday's shave has done wonders for you. You look ravishing.

 _Morticia carries on with this conversation, guessing, internally, how she believes Gomez would be responding, were he able to do so verbally. She responds to this hypothetical second side of the conversation as if it were really happening. Her and Gomez have always been on such a united wavelength that her guesses are more often than not, entirely accurate. Even when her guesses turn out not to be accurate, Gomez always finds himself thinking_ "Oh, yes. Another very valid point, querida." _when he hears them._

 **Morticia**

 _Of course_ you still look ravishing, my dear. No illness can take that away, darling. Except, of course, for deforming illnesses. But we don't have to worry about that, do we? _Yes_ , you had cultivated _quite_ the five o'clock shadow. _Of course you still looked like yourself_ – though, perhaps a more haggard, battle-damaged version of yourself – not too unlike Ragnar Addams, that Viking conqueror great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great uncle of yours. I imagine he looked much the same after two weeks on the battlefield. I know you don't often aim for the rugged look, my sweet, but you pulled it off beautifully, nonetheless.

 _Morticia leans in._

 **Morticia**

My darling, I'm going to open your eyes again. Just for a moment.

 _She takes his eyelids, and opens them. Again, he just stares straight ahead with an entirely blank expression. She gets as close to the bed as she can, stands up and leans over him, right in his line of sight._

 **Morticia**

Could you try to look around, my sweet?

 _But, nothing._

 **Morticia**

 _Bubele_?

 _Still, nothing._

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher_? _Regardez-moi_ , _s'il vous plait_?

 _STILL, nothing. Morticia closes his eyelids again, a little disappointed._

 **Morticia**

Maybe tomorrow, dear. It's early, yet.

 _She leans down, and kisses him on the forehead. Before pulling away, she just stands there, her head and his touching, and savours the moment of skin-to-skin contact with her husband for a few seconds. Eventually, resisting the temptation to stay longer and run her fingers through his hair, she takes a step back._

 **Morticia**

My love, I'm going to call down Dr. Benson now. I need to show him this roster.

 _Morticia slowly moves back to the sheet she's drawn up the roster on, and bookmarks the page, before calling for Dr. Benson._


	5. Day 19

19

 _It's 3am. Gomez is alone in his bed. His night nurse has just been in on the hour to check on him, and nothing out of the ordinary was reported or noticed. He is sleeping._

 _However, Wednesday is awake. She's been unable to sleep all night. Between thinking about her father, worrying about the future and trying to do her best in school, she's under more stress than a six-year-old should ever dream of. It's been over two weeks (aka, an eternity to a child) since her father was his usual self, and she misses him greatly. She thinks back to what she heard her mother say. She was permitted to visit him at any time – even at night, just as long as she was gentle with him._

 _Wednesday makes up her mind. Sometimes, when she was younger and couldn't sleep, she'd go in to her parents' room and sleep in their bed, snug between them. That would always succeed in helping her drift off._ "Why not try that again?" _Wednesday thinks. She can't sleep, she is permitted to see her father at any time, and the presence of a parent had always helped her sleep in the past. She would go visit her father – who cares that it's 4 in the morning?_

 _Wednesday clambers out of bed, and starts out the door, being careful to close it quietly._

 _She wanders down the hallway, making her way through the quiet house to the drawing room. She can hear loud snoring from Fester's room. Everyone seems to be sleeping except her. She wanders past the nurses' guest rooms, where she can hear more snoring. Her father used to snore too – she wonders if he can even do that anymore._

 _Finally, she makes her way to the drawing room, and opens the door with an uncomfortable creak. Inside, the room is as eerily dark as the rest of the house. None of the lights are on, save for some of the blinking green lights on the ventilator._

 _She makes her way beside the bed, which is raised much higher than she stands. She can barely see her father. She sees the chair next to the bed, and climbs on top of it for a better view._ Careful _, she thinks._ "I have to be careful – careful, and I have to talk to him like nothing bad happened."

 **Wednesday** _(voice barely above a whisper)_

Father?

 _Of course, Wednesday has no way of knowing if her father is actually awake, so she takes matters into her own hands – gently and carefully, of course._

 _Wednesday taps her father on the shoulder. Probably a bit too hard to be considered "gentle", not that she realizes that. Then, just to make extra sure she's woken him up, she taps his head, poking at his cheek._

 **Wednesday**

It's Wednesday. I can't sleep.

 _Her efforts prove successful. Gomez is brought out of his medication-induced sleep by the far-off sound of Wednesday's voice. For a few seconds, he believes it might just be a dream, but when he feels his daughter's little hands poking at him, it brings him closer to Earth – though, understandably, still drowsy._

 **Wednesday**

I'm not sleepy at all, father.

 _"Paloma – that's quite alright", Gomez wants to say._

 **Wednesday**

I don't know what you're thinking, so I'm just going to sleep here.

 _"Well, you're very welcome to", Gomez thinks, hearing Wednesday beginning to climb past the plastic frame of the hospital bed. Wednesday clambers up, past the frame, and awkwardly shuffles in next to her father, though her father is so well tucked in that she doesn't dare untuck him, instead, she just lays atop the covers._

 **Wednesday**

Mother said I should talk about normal things. In school today we read a story called The Wizard of Oz. I hated it. Two witches died. And the wizard wasn't even a real wizard.

 _Gomez listens intently to Wednesday's babbling. "Outrageous. The school system, yet again, fails to provide appropriate reading material to today's children. Something I really ought to remedy when I'm well."_

 **Wednesday**

Are you listening? I can't tell, father. Did I even wake you up?

 _Gomez wishes he could give her even the slightest signal that yes, he's here, and he's listening. He tries his very best to move something – anything, but to no avail. "Of course I'm listening, I'm"/_

 _But Gomez can't finish the thought. Wednesday has reached up and pushed one of his eyelids open. He, through this very bleary eye, sees the vague shape of Wednesday to his right. She waves at him._

 **Wednesday** _(louder, as if he can't hear)_

Helloo-oo?

 _Wednesday leans forward, trying to get as close as she can to being right in front of him. As she does this, though, still stretching her arm to keep his eye open, she notices that his gaze (from his one open eye) seems to follow her as she moves from the right of his vision to the centre. Gomez himself doesn't even notice this, or seem to register it as being anything of note. Wednesday stops dead in her tracks, though, once she realizes._

 **Wednesday** _(entire demeanour changing)_

Father?

 _Gomez doesn't understand this sudden shift in her. "My pet! What is it?" he wishes he could ask._

 **Wednesday**

Mother said you couldn't move your eyes.

 _Gomez would sigh if he could. "I can't", he wishes he could say to her. He understands that children don't want to believe these things, but he is of the opinion that it's only fair to be firm with her on the truth of the situation - something Morticia is trying to be at all times._

 **Wednesday**

Well, she must be wrong, because you looked at me while I moved.

 _If Gomez's eyes could go wide, they would. "I did?" he thinks._

 **Wednesday**

I _was_ here…

 _Wednesday moves back to where she had been at first._

 **Wednesday**

And then, I came over _here_.

 _Wednesday moves back to the new position._

 **Wednesday**

You did it again! Your eye moved. You moved when I did.

 _Gomez seems bewildered. "By George – I didn't even notice!"_

 **Wednesday**

Mother said your eyes were stuck, looking straight ahead.

 _Gomez is taking this in. "Well, they certainly were yesterday. Uncle Fester shone a laser in my eye and tried to get me to follow it. No luck, though."_

 **Wednesday**

But you just looked _there_ … and then you looked _here_.

 _Gomez, processing this, begins to feel the discomfort in his eye being held open. It's been open without being manually blinked for too long now for it to be comfortable. Wednesday realizes this after a few more seconds of quizzically staring at her father. She, without warning, lets go of her father's eyelid, letting it drop closed again._

 **Wednesday**

You can look around again! _I_ think you're _already_ getting better.

 _Wednesday smiles widely, and lays back down beside him._

 **Wednesday**

I knew you would. I knew it.

 _She cuddles up, resting her head on her father's shoulder._

 _Gomez is still taking a moment to process the fact that he regained some movement without even noticing he'd done it. "Excellent", he ponders. "A triumph!"_

 _Wednesday is already drifting off to sleep. She, despite the medical-grade tubing and the bulky tube connecting the ventilator to Gomez's neck, as well as the loud, repetitive mechanical puffing noise coming from the ventilator itself, manages to get comfortable and snug, finally drifting off to sleep._


	6. Day 19 (Part 2)

19 – Pt. 2

 _It's just gone 5am._

 _Morticia is the one who's scheduled to check in on her husband during the 5am hourly check. The wolf's head clock roars, but she was already awake. She's laying in her and Gomez's shared bed, alone. It is freezing. The heat is on, and she's covered by the blankets, but without the warmth of her husband, she's freezing. She darkly marvels at how troubling sleeping alone is for her. She had taken the warmth of husband for granted._

 _She slips out of the bed, turning on the bedside light. She moves toward the large, ornate wooden closet, and opens it up. Inside, she sees all her nightgowns - as well as her husband's nightshirts and housecoats. She feels a pang of despair when she sees these. It's as if everything reminds her of the state her husband is in. She takes the nearest nightgown to wear over the one she's already wearing. She's freezing, after all - and not in a pleasant way. She moves out of the room, and down the hallway, passing the still-snoring Fester's room, as well as the guest rooms for the care team._

 _When she reaches the drawing room, she opens the door. It creaks a satisfying, comforting creak._

 _Inside, she sees an odd shape on her husband's bed. Unafraid, she moves closer, thinking it may just be Aristotle – but when she steps nearer to the bed, she recognizes the shape as a sleeping Wednesday, completely conked out._

 _Morticia considers what to do for a moment. She wouldn't dare wake her daughter, who is wearing a tiny smile on her peaceful, sleeping face, very snugly wedged between the bed's frame and her father's body. It doesn't look like it should be comfortable, yet her daughter's peaceful expression seems to say otherwise. She always did need the comfort of a parent to help her sleep – and the dear child missed her father. Morticia understands._

 _Morticia scans her husband's medical equipment, looking to see if anything is amiss. She doesn't see any disruption to the equipment that might have been caused by Wednesday's manoeuvring herself next to her father. She turns to leave, satisfied that both her husband and her daughter are comfortable, but steps on a creaky – and very loud – wooden floorboard. Not that she's bothered. The sound brings some comfort to her. Still, she turns around to see Wednesday yawn and stretch, seemingly having forgotten where she is. She stretches her arm right up in her father's face. Briefly startled, she seems to come to when she feels him. Then, without even noticing her mother yet, Morticia speaks._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, darling?

 _Wednesday immediately turns to look at Morticia, startled._

 **Wednesday**

Mother?

 **Morticia**

Oh, sweet Wednesday. I didn't mean to wake you.

 _Wednesday turns her head back to where she'd been resting on her father's shoulder._

 **Wednesday**

That's okay. I couldn't sleep.

 **Morticia**

So you came to see your father.

 **Wednesday**

Yep. I talked to him about normal things but that was boring.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Wednesday, I hope you didn't say anything that might upset him.

 **Wednesday**

No, mother. He's already getting well again!

 _Morticia sighs to herself._

 **Morticia**

How do you mean, darling?

 **Wednesday**

Well I wanted to make sure he was awake so I opened his eye and he looked at me.

 _Morticia seems a tad confused._

 **Morticia**

Well, darling, if you make sure that you're right in your father's line of sight, he _will_ be able to see you.

 **Wednesday**

But I wasn't, mother.

 _Morticia's eyes go a bit wide._

 **Morticia**

You weren't?

 **Wednesday**

Nope!

 **Morticia**

Where were you, then, darling?

 **Wednesday**

Well, first I was _here_.

 _Wednesday doesn't move. She's snugly wedged between Gomez's right side (his right) and the side of the bed, with the bedframe preventing her from falling off. It's quite a tight squeeze._

 _Wednesday then squeezes out from the previous position. She wiggles her way out and gets into into a kneeling sort of position on the bedsheets. Then, she puts her head and shoulders into where Gomez's line of sight would be were his eyes open._

 **Wednesday**

And then I was _here_. And when I was back there, I saw his eyes follow me a tiny bit over here. Like… a flicker.

 **Morticia**

Like a flicker? You _were_ holding his eyelids open?

 **Wednesday**

Just the right one.

 **Morticia**

And you're sure you weren't just… imagining it, my love?

 _Wednesday shakes her head defiantly._

 **Wednesday**

No, he did it twice!

 **Morticia**

 _Twice_?

 **Wednesday**

Yep.

 **Morticia**

And you are _certain_ that you saw him do this?

 **Wednesday**

Yes, mother.

 _Morticia takes a brief moment to process this, her heart beating rapidly from this sudden jolt of excitement. It's been almost two weeks since she's seen her husband move any part of his body by himself._

 **Morticia**

Well, we simply must run a test. Right now.

 **Wednesday**

Can I help? Can I help, mother?

 **Morticia**

Of course, my dear. What I want you to do, is _very_ _gently_ , open up your father's eye for him. The same one you opened before, my sweet. I will try to wake him.

 **Wednesday**

Got it!

 _Morticia moves to the other side of the bed and very softly taps Gomez on the forehead. It isn't much more than a gentle brush, but she need not have done anything at all. Gomez has already been sluggishly, drowsily, waking up once again, the noise of Morticia and Wednesday's conversation slowly but surely drawing him yet again from his deep, medication-infused sleep. Morticia, is, of course, not aware of this. She gently taps his forehead again a few more times – her "taps" are more like gentle strokes, really – deliberate but delicate, just to make sure she's gotten his attention._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? It's me, my darling.

 _She need not have to declare it. Gomez is well aware and intensely comforted that the voice belongs to his querida. Her touch has always been the gentlest – the voices of his wife and children always the most welcome._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday is here too.

 **Wednesday**

Hello, father.

 **Morticia**

She told me something truly wonderful, Gomez. She tells me that you managed to move your eyes to look at her earlier.

 _"Apparently so!_ " _, thinks Gomez, the memory of the previous hour slowly coming back to him._

 **Morticia**

My sweet, I simply must know if you can.

 **Wednesday**

We're gonna do an experiment!

 **Morticia**

Yes, my dear. Wednesday is going to _gently_ ease open your right eye when I count to three. I am standing to your _left_ , and I am going to _slowly_ move my finger into your line of sight. I just want to see if you're able to follow it for me, darling. Do not feel under _any_ pressure, Wednesday has only just told me, and there is always the chance that it may just be difficult for her to see/

 **Wednesday**

/It's true, mother, he really did it!

 _Morticia sighs, and nods slightly._

 **Morticia**

Right. Alright, well, we'll see, my dear. Alright. Wednesday? Gomez? 1 – 2 – 3.

 _On three, Wednesday lifts Gomez's eyelid, and Morticia slowly brings her pointer finger into his line of sight. She very, very carefully watches Gomez's opened eye for the slightest movement. Indeed, just as Wednesday had said, as her finger moves right, across his field of vision, his eye_ does _flicker slightly to the right, following it. When she brings it into the centre, it, again, flickers slightly back to the centre. When she glides it across to the left, his eyeball_ does _inch slightly left to follow it. It's not by any means a huge movement, but it's_ something _. Morticia can't hide it. She beams before she's even finished with the experiment._

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. Gomez, darling, yes.

 **Wednesday**

 _See?_

 _Morticia leans in, right up in front of Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Just a moment, Wednesday.

 _Wednesday crawls backwards, getting out of the way of her mother, who's swooped in over Gomez, putting her hands on his shoulders gently for a brief moment. Then, Morticia lifts her hand and gently blinks Gomez's right eye for him and then opens it again. She looks right into his eye when she speaks to him._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, my darling, she's right! I saw it. I saw you do that with my own eyes. Gomez, don't you know what this means? Dr. Benson was right – you _are_ recovering! And don't you know what else this means, _bubele_? The doctors will now be able to find a way for you to communicate with us!

 _Morticia blinks Gomez's eye for him again._

 **Morticia**

You don't know what it means to me, darling. To see even the slightest movement in your dear, sweet face.

 _She leans in, and kisses him on his forehead, letting go of his eyelid, letting it drop closed again._

 **Morticia**

You did that all by yourself, noble Gomez.

 _"Yes, darling, I suppose I did", muses Gomez, enraptured by the forehead kiss he just received, wanting nothing more than to be able to shower his wife with kisses._

 **Morticia**

I'll tell Dr. Benson as soon as he wakes up. I believe his shift is 6am, anyway.

 **Wednesday**

I can wake him up!

 **Morticia**

No need, darling. How about we rest, now? Just the three of us?

 **Wednesday**

Will we all fit?

 _Morticia ponders this._

 **Morticia**

A good question, my dear. I do suppose there's only one way to find out.

 _Wednesday climbs back down to her father's shoulder, wedging herself between him and the bedframe again. Then, Morticia, moving elegantly and delicately, effortlessly pulls back the covers on the bed, untucking Gomez's left side. She unlocks the bedframe, and pulls it down. She sits on the side of the bed, and then quickly spins herself around to lie beside her husband. The fit is incredibly tight, but she just about makes it, with millimetres between her and falling off the edge. Still, it's the most comfortable she has been in weeks. She pulls the covers back over them, and just savours the moment, filled with the hope she'd been waiting desperate for._

 **Morticia**

There, my angels. The answer is yes. Let's rest.


	7. Day 20 (Part 1)

20

 **Fester**

Pugsley! Wednesday! Get yourselves in here!

 _It's just gone two o'clock, and the children have just returned home from school. The front door is, notably, unlocked, and as they both step inside the house, they hear Fester's call. Everybody, bar the children, has gathered in the drawing room, around Gomez's bed. Morticia, Fester, Grandmama, Lurch, and two doctors: Dr. Harvey, Gomez's physiotherapist, and Dr. Arendash, Gomez's communication and speech therapist. Both seem a little perturbed by the house itself, though both also appear to be sort of flushed with excitement._

 _Pugsley and Wednesday bound into the drawing room. Of course, Wednesday has told Pugsley about last night's happenings with great excitement. The two are greeted by the sight of their family as they enter, but both stare at the strange doctors, neither of whom the children have seen before._

 **Wednesday**

Who are you?

 **Harvey**

I'm Dr. Harvey! You must be the Addams kids. I'm gonna be working with your father to keep him flexible, so that when he's better, he won't be stiff from all this time he's spent not moving.

 **Arendash**

And I'm Dr. Arendash, I'm gonna be working with Dr. Harvey and your father to get him finally able to communicate with you again. The three of us are gonna be working as a team, so you'll probably be seeing a lot of us.

 **Fester** _(to the stick-thin Dr. Arendash)_

Heh, I'm not seeing a lot of ya.

 **Arendash** _(ignoring Fester)_

Your _charming_ uncle called you in because we think you're going to want to see this.

 _Morticia turns to look at the children. She seems elated – maintaining her usual signature stoicism until she shuffles over to Wednesday and Pugsley, unable to contain a huge smile._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _c'est magnifique_! Yes, darlings, come over here and see your father.

 _She lifts Wednesday up to get a better view. Pugsley worms his way between Grandmama and Morticia, standing on the tips of his toes._

 **Grandmama**

So, do you wanna say something to your father?

 **Pugsley** _(somewhat confused)_

He still looks like he's asleep.

 **Grandmama**

Oh, but he isn't! Go on – tell him something.

 **Morticia**

No – _ask_ him something. Something he can answer yes or no to.

 **Wednesday** _(enthusiastic)_

Are you happy to see us, father?

 **Pugsley**

Don't be silly, he can't see us, his eyes are still closed.

 **Arendash**

But wait, kids, watch this.

 _Dr. Arendash very gently lifts Gomez's eyelids open and talks directly to him._

 **Arendash**

Mr. Addams? Your daughter wants to know if you're happy to see her. If you are, look up for me. If not, don't do anything.

 _Pugsley cranes his neck to look, as Gomez's held-open eyes quickly flicker to look up for a moment – it's brief and very slight, but unmistakable._

 _Dr Arendash closes Gomez's eyelids, a smile forming on his face. Even though Wednesday told Pugsley about what happened the night before, it blows Pugsley's mind to see his father actually move any part of his body on his own, without help._

 **Pugsley**

 _Did you see that?!_

 **Fester**

Your father's happy to see ya, Wednesday! How about that?

 **Morticia**

Well, I should _hope_ he would be.

 **Harvey**

Now, _all of you_ – if you could please, and I'll say this as politely as I can, leave us for just a moment to speak with the patient? And his wife, of course. We want to start to develop a communication plan that we can use, going forward. We feel it should be left up to the patient and his next-of-kin.

 **Fester**

Sight for sore eyes, are we?

 **Arendash**

Come now, sir – it'll take just a moment. We can't have too many people distracting Mr Addams. His file says he has probable ADD.

 **Grandma**

That's my boy. Puts the ADD in Addams.

 **Harvey**

Please, everyone. Just ten minutes with the patient and Mrs Addams, and then you can come back in. I know you're all excited to be able to speak to Mr Addams again, but please, let's get the trivial stuff out of the way first.

 **Fester**

Alright, alright! Follow us, children! You too, Lurch.

 _Fester and Grandmama take the kids' hands, and Lurch follows Grandmama, Fester and the children out of the room. When the door shuts, Harvey goes over to a briefcase that's been set on the windowsill. He begins opening up the case, talking to Morticia and Gomez as he does so._

 **Harvey**

So. Mrs Addams, we came to bring you this as soon as Dr. Benson told us about your husband's progress. As I said, I'm a physio, and Arendash here is a communication and speech therapist. Dr. Benson had us both lying in wait until Mr Addams showed any signs of regaining movement. You may be asking: but why? Well - _I_ make movement happen, and _he_ makes communication happen. And _with_ movement… comes communication. That's why we're a team.

 _Harvey produces a letter-board from the briefcase._

 **Harvey**

 _This_ is a letter-board, and it's the direct line to communicate with your husband again, Mrs Addams. Now – of course, once he regains enough eyelid control to open and close his eyes by himself, you may think about investing in an eye-tracking computer for him.

 **Morticia**

A computer?

 **Harvey**

One he can operate with his eyes. But he'll need to be able to open and close his eyes himself before you can think about getting him one.

 **Morticia**

He may be able to communicate through a computer?

 **Arendash**

Easily. He won't need any movement anywhere else in his body to work it, either. Just his eyes and eyelids, and he'll be able to compose full sentences. He'll be able to let you know what he needs, what he wants, if he's in pain or discomfort, how he's feeling – anything his heart desires.

 _The thought of this seems to excite Morticia._

 **Morticia**

Well, why don't I order one now?

 **Harvey**

There's no damage in that, Mrs Addams. I suppose it is better to have it ready to go, so that the moment he gets his eyelids back, he's able to jump right in.

 _Gomez concurs. "Capital idea, Tish", he says, internally._

 **Harvey**

But, for the time being, we have this letter-board. This _can_ be a time-consuming and repetitive process, but it works. We recommend using this _only_ if the need to communicate with your husband is overwhelming. If you need an answer other than yes or no – or, if you believe your husband really wants to communicate something to you, but you cannot guess what it is, _that_ is when to use the board. Of course, it's also useful to have when you just feel like checking in with how he's feeling. You probably don't even realize how much it'll mean to your husband to be able to tell you if he's feeling down, or if he's feeling stable, or under the weather, or even if he just has an itch.

 _Harvey lifts Gomez's eyelids while Arendash explains._

 **Arendash**

Now - _Mrs Addams_ , the first thing _you_ do is put the board in his line of sight, and read aloud each column on the top: column 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5. Now, _Mr Addams_ , _you_ take a look at the letters in each column, and if the letter you want is in the column your wife has named, you look up. _Mrs Addams_ , your job _then_ is to read aloud each letter in the column your husband looked up on. For example, Mr. Addams, if you wanted to communicate the word "I" – as in " _I need this, I need that_ ", you would look up when your wife reached column 3. Then, you'd look up again when she reached the letter I. And of course, Mrs Addams, if you're unsure, you _must_ also make sure to ask your husband if he is finished spelling the word. Shall we try?

 **Morticia**

Yes. Yes, let's try.

 _Morticia takes the board from the doctor, and holds it right in Gomez's line of sight._

 **Morticia**

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5.

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

E – J – O – T.

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

T. Okay – again – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4.

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

T-I? Alright...

 _NB: For the sake of convenience and easiness to read, I will just shorten the sequences that Gomez spends dictating letters, because they are repetitive. Of course, this is the reality for most people with LiS who use a letter-board to communicate. Dictation is absolutely a laborious process and this ought not to be forgotten._

 _A few minutes later. Morticia begins to realize what her husband is spelling. Once it dawns on her properly, she smiles, coyly – with a tiny tinge of loving exasperation. Of course - only Gomez would use his first opportunity to communicate his innermost thoughts in 20 days to tell her the following:_

 **Gomez**

T-I-S-H-T-H-A-T-S-F-R-E-N-C-H

 **Morticia** _(shaking her head, unable to shake her coy smile)_

 _Gomez!_ _But_ \- what was French? When did I speak French?

 **Arendash**

Why not ask him?

 **Morticia**

Of course, of course. My darling – what French do you mean?

 _Gomez and she take more time working together, with Morticia gently holding his shoulder as they collaborate to spell out his response._

 **Gomez**

C-E-S-T-M-A-G-

 _But Gomez doesn't need to finish the thought. Morticia figures it out._

 **Morticia**

 _Oh, Gomez_ – when I said _c'est magnifique_ to the children? Oh, _my poor darling_. All this time after I'd spoken French and no way for you to burst into that fiery furnace of affection. Well, _bubele_ , I _am_ sorry.

 _Morticia leans down, gently clasps under his chin, and eases his mouth shut. Then, she leans in and kisses him, right on the lips._

 **Morticia**

My sweet.

 _Arendash has stepped back, bemused, while Harvey keeps Gomez's eyes held open._

 **Harvey**

And, once he's able to open and close his eyes himself, there'll be no stopping him telling you exactly when he needs some love.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I know. I know all too well.

 **Harvey**

You know, he took to that quickly. You both did.

 **Morticia**

Well, of course he did! He's an Addams. A genetic wellspring of talent. My husband takes everything in his stride. Even catastrophically disabling illnesses.

 **Arendash**

So - about that. Now he can communicate, maybe we can inquire as to his wishes for his ongoing care.

 **Morticia**

How do you mean?

 _Arendash rejoins them around the bed, and leans forward, right into Gomez's line of sight, picking the letter board up from Morticia, and holding it up while Harvey manually blinks Gomez's eyes for him, but then returns them to being held open._

 **Harvey**

Well - we were going to ask you, Mr. Addams, if you, um – are okay for us to continue with this life support and ongoing care?

 _Morticia's head darts to the doctors, stunned._

 **Morticia**

Doctor! I thought we had agreed the answer was yes.

 **Arendash**

But now your husband can answer for himself, it's best to make sure you're on the same page.

 _In the midst of it, Harvey forgets to give Gomez instructions on how to respond._

 **Harvey**

Oh. I'm sorry, Mr. Addams. Let's try again.

 _Morticia joins the questioning promptly, standing beside Arendash and looking her husband straight in his eyes, which flicker a bit to the left when she appears in his line of sight - he's obviously looking at her rather than at Arendash._

 **Harvey**

Mr. Addams - would you like us to keep on going with your life support and physiotherapy? Look up for yes, or stay looking straight ahead on the count of five if you would rather we didn't. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

 _Gomez's eyes flick up instantly. Morticia's face flushes briefly._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, I knew you'd say yes, but still, to see you actually do it...

 _Gomez's eyes flick up again, twice in a row quickly._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? Are you trying to say something?

 _Gomez flicks his eyes up again._

 _Arendash manually blinks them for him._

 **Morticia**

Give me the board, doctor.

 _Harvey hands it to her._

 **Morticia**

Alright, my sweet. Go ahead.

 **Gomez** _(after lots of time and manual blinks from the doctors)_

M-I-A-M-O-R.

 _Morticia leans down and kisses his forehead, letting his eyes drop closed._

 **Morticia**

Doctors - could you please, just for a few moments - leave us to ourselves? Just the two of us?

 _The doctors nod._

 **Harvey**

Of course, Mr and Mrs Addams. Yes, this is an emotional time for couples. Of course - do what you will. We'll be outside.

 _Harvey and Arendash leave the room, letting Morticia be alone with Gomez._


	8. Author's Note: some fun song recs!

AN:

Hi y'all, according to the stats, 204 people have looked at this! Wow. I don't have 204 people in my life who even know how much I care about the Addams Family (I _think_ ), so this is great to see. Thanks a million for reading. More chapters coming your way in the next couple of hours.

In the meantime, here's two songs on my writing playlist that bring to mind Morticia and Gomez in this fanfic (their separate situations - Morticia being the caregiver, Gomez being the patient). Of course these songs weren't planned from the start to be included in an author's note, they were just random shuffle songs and I was like _wait, these sorta fit_ \- so here's the links. Of course it isn't like the lyrics are a perfect fit, neither of the songs have perfectly fitting lyrics, but there's enough in the songs that made me go "woah", that I thought I'd plop 'em here.

Morticia's lil' song: The Killing Type by Amanda Palmer

Gomez's lil' song: Am I Awake? by They Might be Giants

I especially think Gomez would probably like his song, with its frenetic and inconsistent beat, bizarre structure, strange choice of instruments, and its general musical chaos.

Okay bye, will update later with 2 or 3 more chapters.


	9. Day 20 (Part 2)

20 Part 2

 _Morticia is now left alone with Gomez. She sits down on the chair next to the bed, and gently slips her hand under the covers, taking his hand._

 **Morticia**

You poor, brave, darling man.

 _She sighs._

 **Morticia**

You're going to make me cry.

 _Gomez wishes to be able to hold her – just to hug her, in her distress._

 _Morticia gently eases her husband's eyes open again with one hand, and with the other, she holds the board in front of his face._

 **Morticia**

Using this board doesn't exhaust you, does it?

 _Gomez looks up – trying to say "not at all, my dear!". He wants to talk. Morticia seems to understand._

 **Morticia**

Good, my darling. Good. Do you feel up to using it a bit longer?

 _Gomez looks up again. "Absolutely", is what he hopes to communicate in this tiny shift in his eyes._

 **Morticia**

Oh, that's wonderful.

 _Morticia blinks Gomez's eyes for him._

 **Morticia**

There is probably so much you want to say to me, isn't there, darling?

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

I thought so. Well, you can tell me anything your heart desires. 1…

 _Morticia begins to use the communication board with Gomez again. Instead, again, of me typing the entire exchange out one letter at a time, I'll condense it to the full thing Gomez dictates all at once. This entire process probably takes one minute for every three letters, depending on how fast Gomez is._

 **Gomez** _(dictating this one word takes nearly two minutes)_

T-O-R-T-U-R-E

 **Morticia** _(blinking his eyes)_

 _Torture? Now?_ Gomez, do you really think it would help?

 _Gomez looks away from Morticia. Morticia gets the message._

 **Morticia**

You're not done? That's not what you mean!

 _Gomez looks back into her eyes._

 **Morticia**

I'll keep going, my darling, I'm sorry. 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5…

 _Gomez keeps dictating._

 **Gomez** _(dictating this takes 3 and a half minutes)_

T-O-D-E-S-I-R-E-Y-O-U

 **Morticia**

 _Me?!_

 _Gomez looks away from her again._

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I'll keep going. 1…

 **Gomez** _(dictating this takes 7 and a half minutes)_

S-O-M-U-C-H-W-H-E-N-I-V-E-N-O-W-A-Y-T-O-H-O-L-D-Y-O-U

 **Morticia** _(overcome)_

"Torture to desire you so much when I've no way to hold you", _oh, Gomez._

 _She puts the letter board down onto the blankets, lets her husband's eyes close, and strokes his cheek gently._

 _Morticia still, despite all of this, manages to hold it together._

 **Morticia**

 _Soon_ , darling. It'll be as if nothing happened at all. You'll be able to hold me whenever you so wish – granted I'm not in the middle of something, of course. Though… you never do let that stop you. No matter, my dear. You'll be back on your feet in no time at all. And back on your head, if the Grand Guru has his way.

 _She opens his eyes again._

 **Morticia**

Don't worry, sweet Gomez.

 _Gomez looks right into her eyes._

 **Morticia**

Very well, my dear. 1…

 **Gomez**

C-H-I-L-

 **Morticia**

The children?

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

You _have_ always worried about them, but darling, they're coping admirably. Veritable wells of positivity regarding your recovery. Wednesday couldn't stop smiling all day. Once she saw your eyes, my sweet, she finally saw for herself that you're coming back to us.

 _Morticia keeps stroking Gomez's cheek, before blinking his eyes for him again._

 **Morticia**

Besides, darling. Now you can tell them yourself that there's no need to worry about you.

 _This dawns on Gomez – "of course, Tish. Good thinking, as usual." He looks up._

 **Morticia**

I'll bring them in. Little Wednesday has been dying to see you all day. And I'm sure dear Pugsley has missed being able to talk with you, man-to-man.

 _Gomez looks up._

 **Morticia**

I'll be right back, darling. Just you wait.

 _Morticia slowly lets go of Gomez, turning around and moving gracefully to the door, opening it, and gently closing it, off to fetch the children._


	10. Day 31

31

 _Lurch sits, reading a large newspaper. He is the only other person in the room with Gomez, whose eyes are closed. Lurch pays peripheral attention to Gomez. He's been instructed just to sit and be with him for the next fifteen minutes while Morticia prepares his medications. The wolf's head clock rings. Lurch looks up from the newspaper, briefly taken out of the story he's been reading, and notices that Gomez, who had been positioned at an angle that's closer to sitting than supine, needs a slight repositioning. His head, which Morticia had placed two pillows behind to support it, has finally fallen to the side under the influence of gravity, now resting on his shoulder. Needing to correct this for the sake of his duties and the sake of his client's dignity, Lurch rises and makes his way to the bed, before gently picking up Gomez's head and resetting it on the pillows, as it had been before._

 _At the touch of Lurch's hands, Gomez's eyes flicker open somewhat. Lurch, taken aback, finishes the repositioning of Gomez's head and stares as his client's eyes close again._

 **Lurch**

Was that you?

 _Gomez seems to not respond to this, his eyes closed over yet again._

 **Lurch**

Your eyes, Mr. Addams.

 _At this, Gomez's eyes open slowly once again, and seem to begin to droop closed before he seemingly manages to stop them from doing so. Only half-open, and looking very drowsy and bleary-eyed, Gomez and Lurch have a second of silent eye contact before Lurch speaks again._

 **Lurch**

Will get Mrs. Addams.

 _Lurch rises, and goes to the door to fetch Morticia. As he reaches the doorframe, he turns back to look at Gomez, who's still managed to keep his eyes open this whole time._

 **Lurch**

Don't move.


	11. Day 31 (Part 2)

31 (Part 2)

 _Morticia is measuring her husband's medications, crushing them up and liquifying them so she can administer them. However, she gets distracted when she sees Lurch approaching, somewhat faster than usual._

 **Lurch**

Mrs. Addams?

 **Morticia**

Lurch? Lurch, dear, I do hope you haven't left Mr. Addams alone.

 **Lurch**

Follow me.

 **Morticia**

Follow you?

 **Lurch**

Opened his eyes.

 **Morticia**

Why did you do that? Did he need something?

 **Lurch**

No. He opened them.

 _It all clicks for Morticia. Lurch signals for her to follow, which she immediately does. Down the hallways they go, back to the master bedroom. Morticia asks questions as they go._

 **Morticia**

He opened them? By himself?

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Lurch – I'm sorry. I suppose I'm just distracted.

 _They reach the bedroom, and Morticia opens the door, immediately sitting on the bed, beside Gomez. His eyes are closed again, but this doesn't deter Morticia._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? Lurch has just been to see me. Gomez? Are you awake? Gomez? Could you try to open your eyes for me?

 _Gomez is as astonished by this turn of events as anyone else. Yesterday, he couldn't open his eyes no matter how hard he tried. Today, though still difficult, the ability has reawakened from nowhere. "Cara mia," he wants to exclaim – "I'll try. I must!" With everything in him, he tries to force his eyelids to open. Putting in an exorbitant amount of effort, it comes easier to him than he'd maybe expected. Both eyelids open slightly – definitely not all the way, but enough of the way for Gomez to see Morticia sitting beside him, watching his eyes intently._

 _As soon as she sees the movement in her husband's eyelids, she puts her hand on his cheek, stroking it._

 **Morticia**

 _Oh, Gomez…_

 _She takes a tissue from the bedside table, and wipes his eyes with it. Not that he's crying, just that she wants to make sure his vision is clear._

 **Morticia**

Can you make much out?

 _Gomez can see Morticia quite well, but most everything else is still bleary and blurry. He looks up, though, a few times, to signal for the board. Morticia understands. She reaches for it, and holds it in front of him. They begin their dictation process, Morticia not over the novelty of not having to hold his eyes open._

 **Morticia**

Alright – 1, 2…

 **Gomez**

V-I-S-I-O-N-O-K

 **Morticia**

It's okay? Do you want your glasses, my dear? Would that help?

 _Gomez looks up again – an emphatic yes. "Good thinking as always, cara mia", he wants to say._

 _Morticia opens the bedside table's drawer, and roots around for her husband's glasses. Unworn for over a month, she wipes them down, ridding them of the dust they've accumulated. She very carefully places them on her husband. She watches as he opens and closes his eyes again, as if getting used to this regained ability._

 **Morticia**

Masterful, Gomez. Is that better?

 _Gomez gives her a slow blink for yes. Morticia does a small smile._

 **Morticia**

Now, now – you mustn't strain yourself.

 _She strokes his cheek again._

 **Morticia**

Oh, the children will be beside themselves when I tell them. As will Drs Harvey and Arendash.

 _All Gomez can really do is look at her._

 **Morticia**

And, of course, the computer we had discussed. It's been on its way since Thursday. I do hope that it arrives soon.

 _Gomez is looking forward to its arrival – as a talkative man, being voiceless has been a gigantic inconvenience. To signal his approval, he looks up again, and then right into his wife's eyes._

 **Morticia**

You'll be able to natter on in full sentences, my sweet. To say exactly what's on your mind. No need for silly boards. And then, after that – what's next? Your mouth? Your head? Your hands? Yes, darling, I can see you returning to us more and more every day. The worst is over.

 _Gomez wishes above all else to be able to express "you always know just what to say, my dear. I have been trying. Though, come to think of it, all improvements seem to come when I'm not."_

 _Morticia smiles at him softly and subtly._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, I will be back in just a moment, my darling. I'm just going to bring you in your medications. I can show you the sweater I've been working on for when we finally get you out of that ridiculous gown.

 _As Morticia flutters up and out of the room, Gomez wants to just smile when thinking of her words. A new sweater – yet another thoughtful gift from his wife, a woman so inspirational, so devoted. He loves her beyond words. Maybe, he ponders, that's why she's so good at reading his eyes._


	12. Day 37

_**AN:**_ If you have even remotely enjoyed literally any facet of this story so far, do let me know with a review or a PM. I would be stoked to hear it and talk about Morticia and Gomez. I am a lost ship in search of Validation Harbour.

37

 _Morticia is squeezed between Gomez and his bedframe, playing with his hair. It is incredibly difficult to squeeze beside him on the small hospital bed in the drawing room. It is clearly awkward for her. She's wearing only her silk nightgown. Gomez is completely covered by the bedsheets from the shoulders down, bar his right arm (his right, our left) which, due to earlier aching, has been positioned above the covers, stretched out straight, resting on a pillow. Other than that, only his head, some of his neck (though mostly it's covered by the tubing that connects it to the ventilator) and his shoulders are visible._

 _Morticia caresses his hair, and with her other hand, holds his hand, slowly rubbing it with her thumb in a soft repeating motion. Gomez's head has been positioned not to look straight ahead – instead, it is propped up with an extra towel for support so that it's positioned facing slightly to the right. This allows him to see Morticia properly._

 _The two are staring at each other, not needing to speak to be able to communicate. Though, after a few minutes of quiet, Morticia does break the silence._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, you're drooling again. Let me get that for you.

 _It's true. Having his head positioned slightly to the right does, by virtue of gravity, mean that drool tends to pool at the right side of his mouth and, due to him not being able to close his mouth yet, will drip out much easier. She reaches her hand back to the bedside table where a suction machine is sitting. Without even looking, she is able to take it and turn it on. She pulls it over, placing it in her husband's mouth, letting it suck away the drool. After she turns it off, she leans her head in and kisses him softly on the forehead._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling_ , I hope you don't feel embarrassed. I adore you with an open mouth, a closed mouth, slack jawed, slightly ajar, lockjaw... _darling_...

 _She goes back in and kisses him on the forehead again. She continues to talk with him, just instinctively knowing what his internal responses would be. She responds to them verbally as if he'd said them aloud himself._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, my dear. How precious moments like these are, these little moments of peace during the whirlwind of activity our days have become... _yes_ , darling, even with the tubes. _Of course_ I don't mind - anything that's a part of you is mesmeric, my sweet. Yes, even – yes, _everything_. _Now, Gomez_ \- Grandmama has used far worse in her concoctions.

 _She places a kiss on her husband's forehead, and goes back to cuddling. After a few minutes more, she breaks the silence again._

 **Morticia**

This bed of yours is just nightmarish, Gomez. I can't bear sleeping in our bedroom, knowing well that you are here in the drawing room, all alone, and that I can't be there, snug, beside you. Being married to you, I am the most fortunate woman in the - _yes_ , darling. I'm always ready to be your nurse at the drop of a hat. It is a pleasure to act as your arms, your legs, your voice – all while you're too unwell to use your own. I must _be there for you_.

 _Morticia nuzzles into Gomez a bit, as much as she can with the limited room. Suddenly, Morticia gets a brainwave._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, do you want me to move you back to our bedroom?

 _Gomez's eyelids flutter and he blinks twice in quick succession. Even with such limited movement, she can tell that he's as enthusiastic as ever about her ideas. "Querida mia!" he wants to exclaim, "A marvellous idea! This bed is unbearably soft for my tastes – not even the wood-lined pillow Lurch brought for the ache in my arm can make me comfortable – and not to mention, this bed's not nearly large enough for two."_

 **Morticia**

I thought as much, my sweet. I'll call Lurch to help me move you. Let me wrap you up in these blankets – it'll make it easier for us to carry you.

 _Morticia gets up and pulls the blankets off the bed. Then, she gets to work. Firstly rolling Gomez onto his side, then easing the blankets back on to the edge of the bed and rolling her husband into them. She then swaddles him in the blankets like he's a kind of giant, 5'8-5'9, slightly overweight baby. His various life-support tubes are still in the blanket swaddle, his head and trach tube just poking out the top._

 _She leans beside him, still playing with his hair and looking into his eyes intently. She can't help but sadly smile._

 **Morticia**

You look just like a pupa, mon cher. I'll call Lurch. I'll just be a second.

 _"Ah, that French!" Gomez thinks, a wave of passion hitting him. Morticia goes outside the room, pulls the nearest rope, and sounds the gong for Lurch. After a few moments, he arrives._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Lurch, dear, could you carry Gomez into our bedroom?

 **Lurch**

Carry?

 **Morticia**

We've had enough of him being trapped in this awful bed. He'll be far more comfortable in our own. He'll feel more like himself.

 **Lurch**

But the machines, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

His various… _tubes_ … are all in the blankets. I'll carry his ventilator as you go. Just as long as we get him there in one piece.

 **Lurch**

As you wish.

 _Lurch goes over to Gomez, and heaves him up in one go, his carrying a grown man apparently effortless._

 _Lurch turns around, holding Gomez carefully. He slowly begins to edge out of the room, Morticia wheeling the ventilator behind them._

 _The trio move slowly through the house, Morticia and Lurch careful not to step too far from one another. Eventually they reach the master bedroom on the other side of the house._

 _They go inside, Morticia nudging the door open for Lurch to bring Gomez through._

 **Morticia**

Just lay him down anywhere, Lurch.

 _Lurch very gently lays Gomez on the much harder bed. Morticia unwraps him from the swaddling._

 **Morticia**

Lurch, help me get this blanket from under him. We can use it as a throw.

 **Lurch**

Of course.

 _Morticia and Lurch carefully ease the blanket from under Gomez. Morticia pulls the blanket away and Lurch holds Gomez in place as best he can. Gomez still does flop over a bit but not much with Lurch's strong hold stabilizing him._

 _Morticia gets the blanket out from under Gomez, and sets it on the windowsill._

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank you, Lurch. Thank you.

 **Lurch**

No problem.

 **Morticia**

Now go back to sleep, dear.

 _Lurch nods and heads out the door, leaving Morticia looking over Gomez, lying now back in his own King sized bed._

 _Morticia takes the ventilator and relocates it a bit closer to Gomez. Then, she repositions the necessary life-sustaining accoutrements next to the bed. Finally, she takes the actual bed covers and tucks Gomez in, adding the layer of blankets she had used to swaddle him on top of the bedsheets, like an extra layer._

 **Morticia**

Better, my sweet?

 _Morticia walks around to the other side of the bed and slides in. She slowly moves Gomez's head a little to the left, to give them both a better view of each other's faces._

 **Morticia**

More comfortable, mon cher? You seem less tense already. I can see it in your eyes. _Bubele..._

 _"Tish, you know what that word does to me," Gomez thinks. Morticia doesn't need to hear his thoughts to know he's thinking that. During the day, Gomez used to explode into this playful and passionate affection at such inopportune moments. Be it mid-conversation or while entertaining guests, the moment Gomez didn't respond to these words was a rare moment indeed - she even recalled using these words as a litmus test before, to gauge if her husband was his usual self. But now, at night, with nothing else to distract them and no one to get in their way, the moment is perfect. Just them. Such had been their nightly tradition since they were married. But now, that tradition is broken through no fault of either party. Knowing how Gomez must feel, she holds her husband tightly, feeling his body next to hers, right where he should be._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my darling. I have missed you. I have missed _this_. That vile bed is no place for an Addams.

 _Morticia gets comfortable, things feeling - if she closes her eyes and blocks out the image and sound of the ventilator - like normal again._

 **Morticia**

How are you feeling now, Gomez?

 _Gomez blinks three times in quick succession. With his eye control returned, his method of answering becomes more decisive, to avoid mistaking communication-blinks for regular ones, and slight eye-twitches for affirmations of meaning._

 _Morticia doesn't need the letter-board to speak with her husband anymore. They both have every number-letter combination memorized. Besides, the computer is on its way._

 **Morticia**

1-2-3-4-

 _Gomez blinks twice._

 **Morticia**

D-

G _omez blinks twice._ _This process seems long and drawn out but Morticia and Gomez have it down to a fine art of back and forth blinking. Eventually, what he wants to say becomes clear._

 **Gomez** _(after about a minute and a half)_

D-I-V-I-N-E.

 **Morticia**

Divine.

 _She coyly smiles._

 **Morticia**

Well, my darling. If you're divine, I'm divine.

 _She nuzzles into him more, holding his hand and cuddling into his shoulder, as the both of them slowly, peacefully drift off to sleep._


	13. Day 40

_**AN:**_ Hi all, sorry this one's up a day later than it ought to be. But it's long, so hopefully that'll be consolation enough. More than ever, I want to know what you have to say about my characterization of Morticia and Gomez (and Fester too) in this chapter. Capturing these characters as the 1964 cast played them is of the absolute utmost importance to me, and this chapter has tons of Morticia, tons of Gomez and a fair amount of Fester, too. I'd love to know if you think I've gotten the characterization here - seeming OOC is my biggest fear and I have rejigged every chapter so many times over the tiniest turns of phrase. So do tell me what you think of how I managed to encapsulate (or not) Jones, Astin and Coogan's Morticia, Gomez and Fester in this here chapter/scene, if you've got a free moment after you're done reading. Cheers!

Day 40

 _It's about 11am. The "doorbell" rings. Fester sprints down the stairs as soon as he hears it, but Lurch somehow beats him to it, appearing as if from nowhere to answer the door. When Lurch swings the door open, a hapless looking delivery guy is standing there, with a huge, plastic-lined box on a trolley._

 **Delivery Guy**

Package for a one Mrs. Addams? Is she here?

 **Lurch**

Thank you.

 _Fester finally appears in the doorframe too, panting a little._

 **Fester**

Is this the computer?

 **Delivery Guy**

In all honesty, I don't know what the hell it is, I'm only bringing it here.

 **Fester**

It's the computer. C'mon Lurch, let's bring it to Morticia and Gomez.

 **Delivery Guy**

Wait, wait – we'll need a signature.

 **Fester**

I'll sign for it.

 **Delivery Guy**

Mrs Addams can't sign for it herself?

 **Lurch**

Not presently.

 **Delivery Guy**

Can Mr Addams not sign for it? Can you not call for him instead?

 **Lurch**

No.

 **Delivery Guy**

Really? He _really_ can't come to the door too?

 _Fester seems genuinely kind of hurt by this, as if the delivery guy had any understanding of why what he said is upsetting._

 **Fester** _(kind of flustered)_

 _Hey_! That boy's my favourite nephew and I don't appreciate ya talking about him that way. If he could, we wouldn't exactly need ya here in the first place, now, would we? Lemme sign.

 _Fester pulls a tatty old quill from inside his coat. He shakes some dust off of it (how long has it been there for?), and signs the form with a flourish._

 **Fester**

Well, there ya go! That'll be all, right? Right? _Great_. See ya!

 **Delivery Guy**

Wait, uh – b-but, do you not need help bringing it inside? Didn't you say this was a computer?

 **Fester**

Ya gonna insult Lurch, too? He can handle it.

 **Delivery Guy**

What's a/

 **Lurch**

 **/** I'm Lurch.

 **Delivery Guy**

Oh, Lurch is _you_ , ah – well, that settles that then! Well, looks like I'm not needed, so, with your permission… I'll get myself outta this place. Got other deliveries to do, thank the Lord.

 **Fester**

Yeah. C'mon Lurch! I've had enough of this clown. We've got a lotta work to do, assembling this contraption. Ahh, reminds me of the time when Gomez and I built you that harpsi – uh, never mind.

 _Lurch raises an eyebrow at this but carries on regardless, picking up the huge box, lifting it out of the trolley in one go, not too unlike how he lifted Gomez a few days prior. Without even breaking a sweat, Lurch brings it inside and sets it on the floor, next to the bear. Fester watches, but stays at the door. The moment that the box is set down, Fester's head spins back around to look at the delivery guy, who appears to be growing more nervous by the second._

 **Fester**

Well, goodbye! Better be on your way!

 **Delivery Guy** _(mumbling)_

I, uh – ah – I guess you're right! See/

 _Fester, before the delivery guy even finishes, slams the door shut, a friendly smile plastered on his face._

 **Fester**

A little thoughtless, but he seemed nice.

 **Lurch**

Friendly.

 **Fester**

Let's tell Morticia.

 _Lurch nods, and follows Fester down the hallway, heading in the direction of the master bedroom. When they finally get there, they watch the door. They see one of the nurses, whose shift has just begun, opening the door. When she does, before the nurse can even go in, Morticia wanders past, politely smiling at the nurse and uttering a quiet greeting. Then, she looks ahead, and immediately sees Fester and Lurch. Fester perkily chimes in._

 **Fester**

Morticia! Morticia, it's here. The computer's arrived.

 _Morticia's eyebrows raise and her eyes widen._

 **Morticia**

Oh, I just knew it'd be today. When Gomez and I woke up to the sound of rain against the roof, I knew it had to be a good omen.

 **Fester**

Me and Lurch just needta build it first.

 **Morticia**

But don't you remember? I had requested it come pre-assembled, Fester dear.

 **Fester**

 _What?_ Where's the fun in that?!

 _Lurch sighs, maybe, on some level, a bit relieved not to have to build a complicated contraption with only Fester for help._

 **Morticia**

I know, but the therapists advised me to order it this way. Gomez must be able to speak with us as quickly as possible – there's no time to spend dillydallying when we could be talking to him.

 _Lurch groans in agreement._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Lurch. Now – if you could carry the machine up, I'll call Dr Arendash.

 **Fester**

What'll I do?

 **Morticia**

Why, you can go and tell Gomez the good news.

 _Fester likes this idea. He beams, and scampers into the master bedroom._

 **Fester** _(already passing by Morticia, eager to share the news with his nephew)_

Gee, this is gonna be great. I can't wait to see the look on his – well, uh/

 _But he's closed the door behind them before Morticia or Lurch can make out what the end of his sentence would have been. The duo, instead, make their way back down the hallway and over to where the package has been placed._

 _Meanwhile in the master bedroom, there are two nurses on duty. The covers have been pulled off the bed, and both nurses are standing over Gomez, performing physiotherapy. One has her hands on Gomez's head and shoulders (keeping them stable) as the other is holding Gomez's left leg, and performing range-of-motion exercises on it, bending his knee as far as she can manage to bend it. The physios are both making dull small-talk with Gomez._

 **Physio #1**

Awful weather this morning, eh, Mr Addams?

 **Physio #2**

Wouldn't like to be singing in _this_ rain.

 **Physio #1**

I'm liking your hair, by the way.

 **Physio #2**

Aw, thanks.

 **Physio #1**

I, uh, meant Mr Addams.

 **Physio #2**

Oh.

 **Physio #1**

But yours is nice too.

 **Physio #2**

Thanks.

 _There's an awkward silence where one of the physiotherapists walks to the other side of the bed, and resumes holding Gomez's head and neck in place from the other side, while the other physiotherapist places Gomez's leg back down onto the bed, and begins the same passive range-of-motion exercise on his other leg. The awkwardness lingers in the air._

 **Physio #1**

So. Did your wife do something with it?

 **Physio #2**

I don't have a/

 **Physio #1**

/I'm... uh... still talking to/

 **Physio #2**

/Oh, Mr Addams, yeah, right. Sorry.

 _The physiotherapist who is holding Gomez's leg bends his knee and crosses his foot over the thigh of his other leg. She pushes his knee towards his opposite shoulder and keeps it held in that position for a few seconds. While she's holding him in place, she keeps going with the awkward conversation._

 **Physio #1**

So, is black your natural hair colour? Or do you dye it?

 **Physio #2**

He's asleep, Gladys.

 **Physio #1**

You always have to keep the patient engaged.

 **Physio #2** _(sighing)_

I guess. Looks like he'll need a good shave soon, though.

 **Physio #1**

That moustache _does_ look like it needs a little trimming.

 **Physio #2**

Oh, no. _I_ just meant I can see a bit of five o'clock shadow.

 **Physio #1**

Seriously? I think that stubbly, rugged look flatters him well, honestly. It's just that that is one thick moustache.

 **Physio #2**

 _I_ just think that stubble like that would clue people in to the fact that he's been in bed all day.

 **Physio #1**

Well, he _has_ been. Are we trying to convince anyone otherwise?

 _The therapist sets Gomez's leg down again, and begins the second repetition of the movement. She places one hand above his knee, keeping it straight, and the other hand under his heel. Keeping his leg straight, she raises it as high as she can manage to._

 **Physio #2**

But we don't want him looking unkempt. He was a sharp dresser before this. Wore a suit every day, not a hair out of place, eyeliner applied flawlessly. Do we think he'd want to look like a stubbly mess?

 **Physio #1**

But with an unkempt moustache like that, I just don't see the point in dealing with stubble first. We need to ask Mrs Addams if she intends to do something about it.

 **Physio #2**

Do you think you have to shave the whole damn thing off if it's messy looking? No! Just get Mrs Addams to comb it. That'll neaten it right up. You know what? I think you just don't like moustaches.

 **Physio #1**

Well, I/

 **Physio #2**

/You just think everyone'd look better without a moustache.

 _Physio #2 shakes her head, tutting Physio #1. Physio #1 shrugs, and brings Gomez's knee towards his chest, holding it in place for a few seconds._

 **Physio #1**

I never said _everybody_ would. But it is so hipster - all these "alternative" type men in their thirties suddenly see that moustaches are _in vogue_ again, so off they go, growing them. Maybe Mr Addams _could_ do with a change of/

 **Physio #2**

Have you seen his family photos? From the looks of it, he's had a moustache since the first moment it was physically possible. He's not just joining a bandwagon.

 **Physio #1**

All the more reason for him to change it up a little!

 _She returns Gomez's leg to the bed._

 **Physio #2**

What if he wakes up and he hears this, though? It isn't as if we're the fashion police. Do we want him waking up and hearing us criticizing his style?

 **Physio #1**

Maybe he could do with a wake up call.

 **Physio #2**

No way! He's asleep, let him rest.

 **Physio #1**

I meant, like - not literally, you idiot - like a rude awakening. Like, for someone to tell him "hey - your moustache makes you look like a poser".

 **Physio #2**

I think being seen as a poser is the least of his worries right now.

 **Physio #1**

Well, it's never any harm for him to be thinking ahead.

 **Physio #2**

As long as we do our jobs.

 _Gomez is not asleep at all. He's wide awake, pretending to be asleep for the express purpose of hoping that if they think he's asleep, they won't attempt to make small talk with him. He always feels an obligation to respond to with the communication board, despite how tiring using the board can get. However, this has backfired - since they think they can't talk to him, they talk about him instead. There's lots he wishes he could convey. He wants to explain that he's had this moustache as long as he can possibly remember (well before it became back on-trend). He wants to let them know that under no circumstances would his wife ever allow them to shave his moustache off. This conversation has been excruciatingly frustrating to have to listen to. Add in the pain from the aching in his muscles that comes with the physiotherapy, and one can understand why Gomez wishes he was actually asleep, rather than only pretending._

 **Physio #1**

Alright, Mr Addams. We're moving on to your wrists and fingers now.

 **Physio #2**

He's asleep.

 **Physio #1**

We still have to tell him!

 **Physio #2**

Whatever.

 _Gomez feels the physiotherapists re-positioning his legs flat, next to one another, on the bed. Seconds later, he feels the therapist lifting up his left arm above the elbow and beginning to bend his hand to one side, then to the other. They usually do the wrists and fingers second-last, he remembers, letting this be a vague silver lining._

 **Physio #1**

Trach suction after physio, right?

 _The silver lining dissipates as quickly as he found it. As enjoyable and exhilarating as danger and pain often is, Gomez finds himself thinking that trach suctioning is too much, even for him._

 **Physio #2**

I don't know, I'm not seeing any mucous.

 _Physio #1 puts her hand on Gomez's chest._

 **Physio #1**

He needs it. Feel that.

 _Physio #2 shrugs, and doesn't bother. Instead, she continues moving Gomez's hand around. As she does this, however, the door swings open, and Fester scampers in._

 **Fester**

Gomez! Gomez, guess what?

 _Frantic, both physiotherapists shush Fester immediately, pointing to Gomez - "asleep" in the bed._

 **Physio #1**

He's asleep!

 **Fester**

I don't give a damn if he's awake, asleep or in a coma, I gotta talk to him!

 _Gomez, who is listening intently, relieved that the talk of suctioning has briefly subsided, thinks this is the perfect opportunity to pretend to "wake up". "What does the old man want?", Gomez wonders. He opens his eyes blearily, adding a few extra "drowsy" blinks just to try and sell it better._

 **Physio #1**

Oh, look at that. You've woken him up.

 **Fester**

Good! Wouldn't wanna tell him while he's sleeping.

 **Physio #2**

What is it?

 _Fester shuffles excitedly over to the bed and sits down at the bedside chair._

 **Fester**

Gomez, the computer's here!

 _Gomez opens his eyes wider, with genuine excitement. "It is? Great Scott - to talk again - I can't wait any longer!"_

 **Fester**

Lurch and Morticia are unpacking it now! Gee - you've probably got so much you wanna say that you could write a book. "The Inner Life of Gomez Addams". Save some of that royalty money for my hair transplant!

 **Physio #1**

Have you called Dr. Arendash?

 **Fester**

Morticia's doing that right now!

 **Physio #2**

Let's just finish this physio session and let them come up first, Gladys.

 **Physio #1**

Probably for the best.

 **Fester**

Physio? I could be Gomez's physio. All ya gotta do is give his legs a good yank, it's just like how ya do with the rack!

 _The physiotherapists stare._

 **Fester**

What? I'll give ya a demonstration.

 _Fester stands, grabs Gomez's other arm, and pulls it so hard that it lifts Gomez a couple inches off the bed, leaving him to fall and slump down, his body landing completely out of position. The physiotherapists both try to shoo Fester away, but not before the door opens._

 _Morticia and Lurch stand there. Lurch holds a computer and a monitor, one in each arm. Morticia carries a stand, presumably for the monitor._

 **Physio #1**

Mrs Addams! We heard the good news.

 **Morticia**

Isn't it wonderful? Now that he'll be able to communicate on his own terms again, Gomez will be so much more independent.

 **Fester**

Time to turn the ol' thing on and give it a whirl, then?

 **Morticia**

Yes, of course. Let's begin.

 _She looks at the therapists._

 **Morticia**

If you could give us a moment, as a family, to set this up, please? I'm sure that whatever you were doing, it can be resumed later.

 **Physio #2**

Of course, Mrs Addams.

 _The therapists nod, and leave the room. Morticia looks at Gomez, whose body is still slumped and in an odd position thanks to Fester's attempt at "physiotherapy"._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, darling, you're looking a bit out of sorts. Allow me.

 _Carefully, Morticia repositions Gomez back to his supine, lying-down position. Then, she gently lifts his head and slots a few extra pillows underneath it, to give him a bit more support and a better view of his family._

 **Morticia**

There we are. All right. Lurch?

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

Let's plug this in, and see if we can get it to work before Dr Arendash arrives. Fester, could you fetch Mama?

 **Fester**

Sure, I think she's in the moat.

 _Fester leaves to fetch Grandmama. Lurch begins to plug in the machine to the nearest wall socket._

 **Morticia**

It's coming second-hand, so the setup process will be fast. Most of the work has already been done.

 _"Second hand?", Gomez thinks._

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes - I purchased it from a university who no longer needed it. They said they used it for testing. Dr Arendash secured it for cheap.

 _Gomez is thinking internally – and responding to Morticia in his head. "Cheap?" he thinks, "I hope you tipped generously!"_

 **Morticia** _(almost reading his mind)_

But of course, Gomez, I _did_ offer them a rather generous tip, in keeping with your practices. Ten of my finest bat nets…

 _Gomez continues with his answering back, participating in his half of the conversation inside his head. "Ah," he thinks – "very practical."_

 **Morticia**

And 25,000 dollars.

 _Gomez responds internally_ – _"But of course! Excellent, cara bella."_

 **Morticia**

They told me to stop after I offered 21,000 but I knew you would never. So I just rounded up to 25,000.

 _Gomez answers back in his head – "ah, querida, you know me so well."_

 _Fester returns with Grandmama as Lurch connects the monitor to the stand that Morticia brought in._

 **Grandmama**

Gomez! Oh son, the moment has come.

 **Morticia**

It's hard to accept that it's been over a month since I last heard your voice, my darling.

 **Fester**

Well, we're not _exactly_ gonna change that with this thing, are we?

 **Morticia**

Fester, don't discourage him before we've even started!

 **Grandmama**

Oh it'll take more than that to discourage an Addams!

 **Morticia**

But of course, Mama, you're right. I feel rather silly now.

 **Fester**

So, Lurch, how's she looking?

 **Lurch**

"She"?

 **Fester**

Forget it.

 _Lurch wheels the stand, now with the monitor attached to it, over to the bed. The stand suspends the monitor at a changeable angle, but Lurch positions it above Gomez's head, so that the monitor is right in his line of sight, meeting his eyes directly when his head is resting and propped up by the pillows. Lurch then begins to connect the wires from the computer to the monitor._

 **Lurch**

Good, Mr Addams?

 _Gomez gives Lurch two very definite looking blinks and looks straight into his eyes, as so to confirm._

 _Lurch groans in approval, while Morticia decides to sit in the chair Fester was sitting in, right next to her husband._

 **Morticia**

Nearly there, Gomez.

 _Lurch finishes connecting the machines, and then turns them on. The computer boots up as normal, and the regular Windows 10 opening screen begins to play, logging Gomez on from the get-go as "Administrator". There is a small camera on top of the monitor, not built-in, but secured in place. A light goes green on the camera, and a little image appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. It's a very close up live feed of Gomez's right eye. A window appears, instructing "Administrator" that a calibration test is about to begin._

 _A knock on the door._

 **Morticia**

Come in?

 _It opens, and it's Dr Arendash._

 **Morticia**

Ah, Doctor Arendash, welcome, welcome. You've come just in time. Mr Addams is about to calibrate his eye-gaze device.

 **Arendash**

I came here as quick as I could! Ahh, let's see – where are we? Calibration? Excellent. Can you let me in? I'll teach him how to do it quick as possible.

 _The family parts as Arendash cuts through them. He sits on the side of the bed, the side Morticia isn't already at - the side closer to the computer._

 **Arendash**

So, Mr Addams – I'm gonna just instruct you on what to do here. The message on the screen is indicating that there's about to be a calibration test. What you've got to do calibrate is/

 _But, the screen changes and the test begins before Arendash can finish. A prompt onscreen instructs Gomez to "follow the dot". Indeed, a dot moves from the centre of the screen, and then around in various directions, quite slowly._

 **Arendash**

Now, Mr Addams, you _just_ need to try following this dot as it moves. Make sure to concentrate as hard as you can – it won't take long. Yes, we know about your ADD, and we know it can be difficult, but just try to cancel out everything else but this test. The more concentration you put in here, the easier using this device will be in future, 'cause you'll be perfectly calibrated. Of course, we can run this test as many times as you want until you're satisfied, but it _can_ be a bit time consuming to run the program from the start. Not to mention, it could tire you out.

 _After about 45 seconds of just following the dot, the next screen comes up. The device asks Gomez to stare at a singular area of the screen without looking away for several seconds. This portion of the test goes on for about a minute before moving on to the next section._

 _The screen then tells Gomez to look at some more moving dots, and then to blink as soon as the dot stops moving. As the others watch this test going on, they talk._

 **Fester**

Such fast reflexes!

 **Grandmama**

Such precision!

 **Morticia**

I wish I could say the same about his driving.

 **Fester**

Say, Morticia, do you think Gomez will have to use a powerchair?

 **Morticia**

Oh, Fester, undoubtedly so.

 **Fester**

Well… shucks.

 **Morticia**

What?

 **Fester**

Well, are ya gonna push him around in it?

 **Morticia**

Until he's recovered enough to drive it himself, yes.

 **Fester**

That's just it, Morticia. He's gonna have to drive it.

 _Morticia's eyes widen._

 **Morticia**

Oh, no.

 **Fester**

I wonder if that life insurance policy he took out covers wheelchair crashes...

 **Grandmama**

Fester, don't be crude. If it doesn't cover tricycle crashes, it definitely won't cover wheelchairs.

 **Arendash**

Okay! That should be that!

 _The group shift their attention back to Arendash and Gomez._

 **Arendash**

So, Mr Addams - the text-to-speech widget is down there. See if you can get it to load up!

 _Gomez, following the instructions that Arendash gave him, shifts his gaze slowly to the icon in the taskbar that represents the text to speech program. When his eyes move, the mouse follows his gaze. When he reaches the icon, he manually blinks - the blink functions much the same as the "click" of the mouse, booting the program up. Morticia watches intently as a keyboard appears on the screen, with a text box above it. Setting to work immediately, Gomez's gaze begins to shift quickly as he composes the sentence he wants, though he is still a bit rusty, this being his first ever attempt at it. Slowly, Gomez concocts the sentence. Predictive text helps a lot to shorten the time spent looking for the remaining letters in each word, and within just under a minute, Gomez has gotten something typed out. He looks at an orange icon in the program that has a little speaker icon in the middle, and blinks as so to "click" on it. Once he does so, the sentence plays out, being read by a synthesized, female voice._

 **Gomez**

Modern technology, eh? What a marvel!

 _Upon hearing the female voice, Gomez's eyes widen a little, and his gaze shoots to his family. Morticia is unable to hide her smile, still coy and subtle, but unmistakably joyous. Grandmama laughs out loud. Even Lurch smiles slightly. But Fester, surprising even himself, bursts into tears almost immediately. Before Gomez can even analyse his family's reactions, though, Arendash is pointing at the screen, showing Gomez how to change the voice to a different one. Gomez doesn't seem to listen though. Instead, he types more words._

 **Gomez**

By Jove, I've certainly changed!

 **Arendash**

Mr Addams, to change the voice, just go over here to this menu, and you can pick which option sounds closest to your own voice. If you/

 **Gomez** (seeming to completely ignore Arendash, carrying on with the female voice)

/It's a wonder what 40 days spent mute can do for the voice!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, _darling_ …

 **Grandmama**

Fester?!

 _Fester is wiping away tears._

 **Fester**

I'm - I'm sorry, I just – it's just – I'm just… glad to have ya back, Gomez. Even if ya do sound like your Aunt Trivia.

 **Gomez**

Fester, old sport, don't waste those tears on me! Save them for Cleopatra, they'll help her grow.

 **Morticia**

You know, I think that's an old wives' tale.

 **Gomez**

Who are these old wives, and when are they going to stop propagating all these _tales_? They make things far too confusing.

 **Arendash**

Mr Addams? Sir?

 **Gomez**

Oh, there's no need for that. Just Mr Addams is enough.

 **Arendash**

Well, Mr Addams, let's pick you a _more appropriate_ voice than this one. Yes?

 _Gomez finally follows Arendash's instructions and begins toggling through a list of potential voices._

 **Gomez** _(in British Male 1)_

What do you think?

 **Arendash**

Mr Addams, sir, you're not British.

 **Morticia**

You do sound terribly sophisticated, though.

 **Gomez** _(in Australian Male 3)_

Ah, Tish! What does this one bring to mind?

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, our fabulous expedition to Uluru. You passed out from heatstroke as soon as we got off the plane.

 **Grandmama** _(shrugging at Arendash)_

He's _that_ pale, poor scamp.

 **Gomez** _(in Spanish Male 1)_

 _Querida mia_ , how about the brogue of my ancestral home?

 **Grandmama**

You sound ready to burst into song, my boy!

 **Gomez** _(in French Male 2)_

Je t'aime! Soup du jour! _Les Misérables_!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. Not French. You'll drive yourself mad.

 **Gomez** _(still in French Male 2)_

Even when it's robotic - _and_ male - _and_ coming from me - even still, that _French_! Oh, Tish…

 **Morticia**

Later - later, my darling. Focus on your voice first.

 **Gomez** _(still in French Male 2, switching to American Male 1 mid-sentence)_

Of course. Later. Alright – how about this? "Once upon a midnight dreary..."

 **Grandmama**

Too high.

 **Gomez** _(in American Male 2)_

"As I pondered, weak and weary…"

 **Fester**

Too West Coast.

 **Gomez** _(in American Male 3)_

"Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore…"

 **Lurch**

Too deep.

 **Gomez** _(in American Male 4)_

"While I nodded, nearly napping…"

 **Fester**

Oh, that one sounds good!

 **Morticia**

Stop, Gomez! That one.

 **Gomez**

 _Perfecto!_ This one!

 **Morticia**

Just right - not too low or too high.

 **Fester**

Perky.

 **Grandmama**

But not pretentious.

 **Lurch**

It captures you.

 **Morticia**

Exactly, Lurch. I can hear the real you in that voice.

 **Fester**

That's a voice that makes ya say "that sounds just like Gomez Addams... if Gomez Addams was a robot."

 **Grandmama**

Exactly!

 **Gomez**

You're right! "American Male 4" it is!

 **Arendash**

Since I can't say I know what you used to sound like, Mr Addams, I'll just take your word for it.

 **Gomez**

Believe me, doctor, my family are right. You couldn't get much closer than this. Now – now that that's settled - there's something I've wanted to say to my wife since day one.

 **Morticia**

What is it, darling?

 _Instead of this actually being anything of substance, Gomez just repeats Morticia's nickname, and she just repeats his name, vice versa, as they would do before. Morticia strokes his cheek gently as she responds. She smiles sadly, but also genuinely joyfully – the situation is a real mix of emotions._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish..._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _Gomez…_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish..._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez..._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish..._

 **Morticia**

 _G_ /

 **Grandmama**

Alright, you two! Enough with the lovey-dovey talk! Time to move on to the real questions. Gomez - now you can communicate properly again, I need your help.

 **Gomez**

My help?

 **Grandmama**

Doctor? When's the soonest he can be up and around?

 **Arendash**

Well, if you mean when can we start taking him out of bed and putting him in a wheelchair, then... fairly soon, I'd say.

 **Grandmama**

Good. Gomez, I need your expertise in court yet again.

 **Morticia**

Mama! _What_ has happened this time?

 **Grandmama**

Apparently, selling my experimental henbane tequila cocktails on street corners is "illegal", and long story short, I'm being sued again. The audacity. I need a good defence lawyer - and who better?

 **Gomez**

Never fear, mama! I'll get to work on my opening statement right away!

 **Arendash**

Wait - what? Henbane? Isn't that/

 **Morticia**

/Actually, Dr Arendash. now that you've assisted Gomez in his calibration, do you think you could allow us some time alone with him, just as a family?

 _Arendash seems confused by what he's just heard Grandmama say, but nods._

 **Arendash**

Of… course, sorry, yes. Take all the time you need.

 _Morticia smiles softly at Arendash as he shuffles out of the room, closing the door very gently on the way out._

 **Gomez**

Quite the anxious young lad, isn't he?

 **Morticia**

I suppose his line of work _is_ very strenuous.

 **Fester**

So, who's gonna tell Wednesday and Pugsley?

 **Morticia**

Ah, Fester! Always the sentimental one. You know, they usually get home around a half past noon on a Friday, so they could be home any moment! How about meeting them downstairs when they arrive? Oh, they'll be so happy to be able to speak with their father again…

 **Fester**

I see how it is. Leave me go, and once i'm gone, talk about me behind my back.

 **Grandmama**

Fester! Don't be silly. I'll come with you. I think Morticia and Gomez deserve a moment alone.

 **Lurch**

Emotional time.

 **Fester**

Gee, well why didn't ya say so? Egg on my face.

 _Lurch motions for Fester and Grandmama to join him in leaving the room, letting Morticia and Gomez be alone. When the room is empty, besides the two of them, obviously, the two look away from watching the door. Instead, their eyes meet._

 **Morticia**

The children will be so thrilled, my darling.

 **Gomez**

I can't wait to see their little faces.

 **Morticia**

Let's freshen you up for them, shall we?

 **Gomez**

Capital idea, _cara mia_. A father should always look presentable and dignified for his children.

 **Morticia**

Well, let's clean your mouth first. We will rid your face of that bothersome drool.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Tish.

 _Morticia picks up the suction machine and inserts the tubing carefully into Gomez's open mouth. It sucks all the drool in his mouth up and away. Then, she wipes away all the drool that had already drooled out with a tissue. As she finishes this, she speaks up again._

 **Morticia**

Let me run a comb through your hair, too.

 _Gomez just double-blinks in approval._

 _Morticia gently runs a comb though Gomez's hair, neatening it up just a smidge, to keep it tidy for the children._

 **Morticia**

I can wash it for you later if you'd like, darling.

 **Gomez**

That sounds wonderful, my dear.

 _Morticia finishes up the combing by softly running the comb through his moustache two or three times._

 **Gomez**

Can you believe, those nurses wanted me clean-shaven.

 **Morticia**

Which?

 **Gomez**

Physiotherapists.

 **Morticia**

Preposterous. It makes you look wonderfully distinguished, darling. Don't listen to a word they say.

 _Morticia finishes freshening Gomez up._

 **Morticia**

There. Speaking of distinguished, right now, there is no better word for you.

 **Gomez**

I am as distinguished as a paralyzed, mute, incontinent drool factory can be, my dear.

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez!_ I'm shocked. You mustn't joke like that! You are _so much more_. A sweet, kind, noble husband – and, not to mention, handsome. A proud, dedicated, loving father... and of course, a lover with all the passion of a divine fire, all the intensity of a/

 _But, the doorbell rings out from downstairs, and they both know it's the children._

 **Morticia**

Here they come. Alright - let's sit you up a bit more. Yes, yes – up you go. There we go.

 _Morticia takes Gomez's shoulder with one hand. She places her other arm around his back, and with all her strength, she takes him and lifts him up a little more, careful to place another pillow under his head to keep it supported in its new position._

 _From downstairs, she can hear Fester say something, the kids' exclaiming, and the scampering of their feet up the stairs. She looks at Gomez._ _Beaming, Morticia moves towards the door, and opens it, seeing the kids coming running. Fester, Grandmama and Lurch trail behind them, making their way down the corridor at their own pace._

 **Wednesday**

Mother! Uncle Fester says you have a surprise!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling Wednesday, yes, I do. We've been waiting all afternoon to show you. Come in, come in and say hello to your father. He's got something wonderful to show you.


	14. Day 40 (Part 2)

_**AN:**_ I added a picture to go with the fic! I'm no artist, so it took absolutely forever, but I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out. Let me know if ya like. Nothing really new, just a pic I suppose of Morticia consoling Gomez by his bedside, not even that emotional a pic either, I'm not so good at conveying stuff like that through art. I really was just winging it. Anyway, here goes.

40 (Part 2)

 **Grandmama**

So, after all that digging, eventually, I think I found a pair that'll fit.

 _Grandmama holds up an old-looking set of pyjamas. She's standing in front of the bed in a spot where Gomez can see her. Morticia watches too, standing at the bedside._

 **Grandmama**

I think they used to belong to your Cousin Crimp.

 **Gomez**

Wonderful idea, mama!

 **Morticia**

I think so too. You'll feel much more like yourself when you're out of that repulsive gown.

 **Grandmama**

It's far too yellow for your tastes.

 **Morticia**

So undignified. Unbefitting of a man so noble.

 **Grandmama**

Let's change you into _real_ clothes.

 **Gomez**

You think you can manage it?

 **Grandmama**

Don't be silly, Gomez. I dressed you in your pyjamas every night when you were a boy, and a mother _never_ loses that touch.

 **Morticia**

How true, mama, how true.

 **Grandmama**

Besides, Morticia'll help.

 _Morticia nods._

 **Grandmama**

Now, Morticia. Let's get this ugly gown off of him.

 _Morticia and Grandmama stand on either side of Gomez. Morticia and Grandmama put their hands behind his shoulders and push him forward a little, leaving him flop. Morticia keeps him steady while Grandmama unties his gown._

 **Grandmama**

Alright, let him down.

 _The duo ease Gomez back down, back into the position he was in to start with. Grandmama takes the covers off the bed, to allow easier access. Morticia then goes back up to reposition Gomez's head so that it's perfectly in line with the computer, just to make things easier._

 **Grandmama**

Right. You lean him forward a bit.

 _Morticia obeys, wrecking the careful positioning work she'd just done in favour of easing him back up again, letting him flop forward for a second time. Grandmama keeps talking._

 **Grandmama**

Stretch out his arm.

 _Morticia takes his left arm and stretches it out to the side, as straight as she can get it. Grandmama then brings the sleeve across, sliding it down his arm. Still keeping Gomez held up, Grandmama brings the back of the shirt around and across his back, before having to move around to the other side of the bed to finish the job. Once the shirt has been carefully placed on his left arm and back, Morticia eases her husband down again. She moves to the other side, where she stretches his right arm out, as straight as it can go, while Grandmama takes the right sleeve, and slips it down his arm until the shirt is on as best as it can be. Morticia then very carefully positions Gomez, as close to perfect as she can manage, so that the computer is always fully in his line of sight, preferably centered._

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, dear. How is that? Does that feel better?

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, I haven't worn real clothes in weeks! This is exhilarating!

 **Grandmama**

That's my Gomez. Always so easily impressed. Just like his mother.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful, my darling.

 **Grandmama**

Let's get these bottoms on, then.

 _Morticia and Grandmama move to the end of the bed. Grandmama feels like she can do this one mostly by herself, but wants Morticia just in case anything goes awry. She takes the pyjama bottoms and slips the left and right side onto Gomez's legs. Then, she instructs Morticia to stand on the left while she stands on the right, and the two inch the bottoms up until they reach Gomez's waist. They do so – quickly and efficiently. Gomez is now fully clothed, albeit in pyjamas – but other than the hospital gown, it's the first thing he's worn in over a month._

 _Morticia moves over by Gomez's bedside. Grandmama folds her arms and just surveys the two of them._

 **Grandmama**

Looking dashing, son.

 **Morticia**

When aren't you? You are simply irresistible.

 **Gomez**

Querida mia…

 **Grandmama**

Now – let me get started on supper. I'll be back in 20 with that hemlock cocoa.

 **Morticia**

Oh, wonderful, mama.

 _Grandmama closes the door behind her on the way out, leaving Morticia with Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my sweet. It's such a shame you can't taste it. Grandmama tends to experiment in times of stress.

 **Gomez**

Sounds like she hit upon a winner.

 **Morticia**

That she did, Gomez dear. I'll pour a little in your feeding tube. It makes one _delightfully_ woozy. How does that sound?

 **Gomez**

Divine, cara.

 _Morticia sighs, and smiles at Gomez, and strokes his cheek. He looks up at her before composing another sentence._

 **Gomez**

What was it you'd said about the nurses' roster?

 _Earlier, before Grandmama came in, they'd been talking about which nurses are on during which time of the day._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling - I'll fix the nurses' roster to your computer.

 _Morticia takes a copy of the roster from the bedside locker, and with a sticker, affixes the sheet to the computer, just to the side of the screen so Gomez can see it and check it whenever he wants. Gomez examines it._

 **Gomez**

Tish! Your name's on every shift!

 **Morticia**

I can never relax when you aren't well, you know that.

 **Gomez**

I know - you've hardly spent a second away from me since I came home. What about the children?

 **Morticia**

Lurch is taking care of them, mon cher.

 _A pause._

 **Gomez**

Tish, that's French.

 _Neither of them quite know what to do._

 **Morticia**

Should I... refrain from speaking French, my darling? While you can't...

 **Gomez**

No! I'll recover faster!

 **Morticia**

Very well, mon cher.

 _A stagnant silence._

 **Morticia**

Here, bubele. Allow me.

 _Morticia leans down, gently lifts Gomez's arm to her lips, and places three kisses on it, one on his arm, one on his hand, and one on his neck, in a careful, gentler, safety-conscious version of what he would usually do._

 _When he would do this, it would be energetic and fiery, with Gomez doing way more than just three kisses, overcome by his passionate love for Morticia, while Morticia herself would stand stoic, bemused, tickled and flattered - and usually after a while, having to bring him back down to Earth, to remind Gomez that they're in the middle of something else or that now isn't an appropriate time for passionate kissing, but that she'll be more than happy to resume later - and maybe not just kissing, at that. ("X now, bubele later")._

 _This said, the rules don't apply here. Morticia needs to be careful with her fragile husband, plus she'd never just do an impression of him back to him anyway. She's more collected, coy, and ethereal - her three tender, loving kisses in her own vague echoing of his usual passionate routine is more than enough. She stands back a bit afterward, surveying her husband up and down._

 **Morticia**

You look simply ravishing in the light of that machine, my darling.

 **Gomez**

And I'm sure you'd look divine if I could see you behind the computer, cara mia.

 _Morticia steps a bit to her right so Gomez can see her better._

 **Gomez**

What do you know? I was right!

 **Morticia**

Flatterer.

 **Gomez**

Querida...

 _Morticia walks around to her side of the bed._

 **Morticia**

Perhaps you should try to sleep, my dear. We can nap until mama comes back with the cocoa.

 **Gomez**

I do feel a bit drained.

 **Morticia**

Don't worry about staying awake for me, darling. I'll turn the machine off.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara.

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's face, before turning the computer off. Gomez now doesn't have a way to outwardly communicate_. _Morticia goes back to stroking her husband's face._

 **Morticia**

You sleep, my sweet. I'll wake you for supper. I think Pugsley and Wednesday want to join us.

 _Morticia climbs into the bed beside Gomez, and gets under the blankets with him. She rests her head on his shoulder and takes his hand under the covers, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed._


	15. Day 50

**AN:** This took so long to upload despite being short, because of all the revisions and stuff I had to make. I _really_ wanted to get Gomez (John Astin's Gomez, in this case) right in terms of characterization so it took me a full day to play around with phrasing and word choices to make sure I captured him right. I can't play around with facial expressions or tone of voice because neither apply to him here, so it's all in his word choice, trying to capture Astin's Gomez through text. Would really like your feedback on this.

 _Harvey enters Gomez's room, just looking to check in with his patient before he goes home for the day. He has about 15 minutes to kill, so he figures why not make sure that the patient's needs have all been seen to and satisfied._

 **Harvey** _(smiling at Gomez, who he immediately sees is awake and on the computer)_

Hello, Mr. Addams.

 **Gomez** _(gaze shifting from the screen to Harvey)_

Harvey, old chap. Come in, come in.

 **Harvey**

Thank you, Gomez - uh, Mr Addams. How are you feeling?

 **Gomez**

Well, if what you've told me is anything to go by, with my sensory nerves.

 **Harvey**

Mr. Addams. Are you in pain or discomfort, is what I mean?

 **Gomez**

Oh! Well then, yes, absolutely! Immense pain _and_ immense discomfort.

 **Harvey**

Oh, no, Mr Addams. What can I do to help you? Do you want us to reposition you? Is it the vent?

 **Gomez**

All of the above, my good man.

 **Harvey**

How do you want to be repositioned? What hurts?

 **Gomez**

Back.

 **Harvey**

Alright – one second. I'll turn you over.

 _Harvey, who's quite beefy and strong, pulls back the covers. He puts his hand in the small of Gomez's back and the other hand on his shoulder, and carefully eases him over, rolling him onto his side. He always makes sure to keep the vent connected. He makes a special effort to stretch out Gomez's arms and legs as much as they can go. Though, Harvey does soon realize that he needs to keep Gomez's legs a bit bent to keep his body steady on its side._

 **Harvey**

How's that, Mr Addams?

 _Harvey walks around to reposition the monitor on the stand. He needs to move the stand to the side of the bed, so that Gomez can still have full view of the monitor and be able to communicate. Harvey sees that Gomez's mouth has fallen open even further. It's even more slack jawed and drooping, than it was when he was lying supine, due to the effects of gravity._

 **Gomez**

Harvey?

 **Harvey**

Yes Mr Addams? Can I call you Mr Addams?

 **Gomez**

There's something I've been wanting to ask. You've come to help me move again.

 **Harvey**

That's right, sir.

 **Gomez**

Why don't we try starting with my mouth?

 **Harvey**

You want to be able to close it?

 **Gomez**

Exactly. It's just so unbecoming.

 **Harvey**

I see…

 **Gomez**

To drool in front of my own children's an indignity I'd hoped to avoid for at least another half a century.

 **Harvey**

Of course, but they know you can't help it.

 **Gomez**

Nonetheless! I'd only wish it on less than half of my worst enemies!

 **Harvey**

Only less than half, huh?

 **Gomez**

And I'd consider that quite generous.

 **Harvey**

I see what you mean though, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

You know my wife has taught them how to suction my mouth if I begin to drool?

 **Harvey**

That's genuinely useful to know, though. They can be on hand to help you.

 **Gomez**

Little Wednesday asked this morning if she could brush my teeth for me.

 **Harvey**

Isn't your wife the one who usually does that? Huh. I think that's sweet.

 **Gomez**

Of course - I let her, didn't I?

 **Harvey**

I don't know, did you?

 **Gomez**

I did. I just wish it was someone else whose teeth she was cleaning. Mama, or Kittycat, perhaps. Not her own father!

 **Harvey**

At least, take some consolation of how much your daughter wants to help care for you.

 **Gomez**

But neither of them are even nearly old enough. Children their age shouldn't have to witness their own father this infirm.

 **Harvey**

I understand, of course. I have seen this so many times. So that's what you want to work on first, then? Closing your mouth?

 **Gomez**

Without a doubt.

 **Harvey**

Mr Addams, you do know that after one session, you can't expect serious results?

 **Gomez**

I can't?

 **Harvey**

We will have to do all of the jaw movement for you. But after a session we should know where you stand with mouth movement, if there's any potential there.

 **Gomez**

And if there isn't?

 **Harvey**

Well, we'll just have to wait.

 _Gomez is genuinely worried and made tense by this._

 **Gomez**

Seeing my wife see me this way... it crushes my soul, Dr Harvey. Or seeing my mama seeing me like this. Let alone my children. Is there absolutely nothing you can do?

 **Harvey**

Short of sewing your mouth shut? No.

 **Gomez** _(intrigued)_

Capital idea!

 **Harvey**

I was being facetious, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

You should try being facetious more often, Harvey! Might give you some more good ideas!

 **Harvey**

I'm not sewing your mouth shut, Mr Addams.

 _Harvey sighs._

 **Harvey**

But listen, Mr Addams. I want to say that these kids are…. among other things… smart. I don't want you to feel discouraged if we find that closing your mouth won't be possible for a while yet, especially if you're fretting about the kids. They know that behind the illness and all this equipment, it's still just plain old you. Well, uh. Maybe not… _plain_.

 _Harvey searches for the right words to comfort Gomez._

 **Harvey**

You're their father, same as ever, on the inside. You're only different on the outside.

 _Harvey smiles at Gomez, changing the subject._

 **Harvey**

Listen. How's your pain now?

 **Gomez** _(referring to his pain medication)_

May need afternoon refill.

 **Harvey**

You may be right, Mr Addams. Is it atrophy?

 **Gomez**

Must be.

 **Harvey**

I'm told it feels dull and all-encompassing.

 **Gomez**

I don't know who you've been talking to. My wife and I have had marvellous spa treatments that were dull and all-encompassing.

 **Harvey**

Ah. Uh huh. So you'd like some more pain meds?

 **Gomez**

What time is it?

 **Harvey**

2.30.

 **Gomez**

Drat. Pugsley and Wednesday should be home any minute, and that concoction of yours knocks me right out.

 **Harvey**

You want to say hi to them first?

 **Gomez**

Absolutely! They're my children. Parental responsibility comes first!

 **Harvey**

So, when do you want to start on the mouth exercises? Will I say tomorrow morning at 10, as soon as my shift starts? Provided you're awake.

 **Gomez**

10 it is!

 **Harvey**

Do you think you'll be awake at 10?

 **Gomez**

Probably not. But do I have to be?

 _Harvey considers this._

 **Harvey**

Actually. You _do_ have a point.


	16. Day 51

Day 51

 _Harvey and Arendash stand above Gomez on either side of his bed._

 **Harvey**

So Mr Addams, we hope you understand.

 **Arendash**

It's just not feasible at this point in time.

 **Gomez**

I liked your talk of sewing my mouth shut. Very economical.

 **Harvey**

Mr Addams, I was joking.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! It was the best idea you've had all month!

 **Arendash**

Even if we were ethically bankrupt enough to actually do it, Mr Addams, it'd be incredibly painful for you.

 **Gomez**

I still say it's worth it, Harvey.

 **Harvey**

 _We are not sewing your mouth shut!_

 **Gomez**

Let's not rule it out so soon is what I'm saying.

 **Arendash**

So, after our assessment of your mouth and tongue, we detected no regaining of muscle tone, everything still seemed floppy. Of course, we will run the strengthening exercises every day to build them up. This'll lead to regaining movement faster.

 **Harvey**

But as it stands, we can't predict when that'll happen. You understand?

 **Arendash**

But, if it really is causing you as much distress as it is, we can give you something that can help a little.

 _Arendash produces a small cloth from his coat pocket. It's pristine looking, still in a plastic wrap. He unwraps it as Gomez watches._

 **Gomez**

Great jumping catfish! A bib?

 **Harvey**

No, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

Well, that's a relief.

 **Arendash**

You wouldn't want to wear a bib?

 **Harvey**

Let me guess – it's "unbecoming".

 **Arendash**

So, Gomez, listen carefully here. I'm going to fold this cloth up and put it in your mouth, if you're alright with that. It'll soak up the drool, it'll block people's sight of your open mouth, and it has the added bonus of making sure nothing gets in. Like, a spider or something.

 **Harvey**

He'd probably like that.

 **Gomez**

Not if it's Homer. Little Wednesday would miss him.

 **Arendash**

 _Well_ , fine. Listen – we're getting off the point. Would you like us to fold this up and put it in your mouth? Would that be better or worse?

 **Gomez**

Better.

 **Harvey**

Then let's do it.

 **Arendash**

I think I'm with you on that, Gomez. There'll be much less need for suctioning, you won't need to worry about looking as… "unbecoming". And it'll also exercise your jaw a bit. We'll wedge it in place. That's good work to give your jaw right now.

 _Arendash, who has now unwrapped the cloth, begins folding it in a special way. He folds it over itself a few times, eventually wrapping it to just the right size to fit in Gomez's mouth._

 **Harvey**

I think we're ready, Mr Addams. Just… blink like a wild thing if you feel any discomfort at any point, and we'll stop right away.

 **Arendash**

Okay – here goes.

 _Arendash signals for Harvey to help. The two take Gomez's head, ease it back a bit, and let his mouth open even more. Harvey eases Gomez's jaw open as far as he can make it go, and Arendash slips the cloth in, right up against his back teeth. The rag fits in – it looks awkward in his mouth, but it is snug. The doctors make sure to reposition Gomez's head back in front of the computer. Dr Harvey turns on his camera, and shows Gomez himself in selfie mode._

 **Harvey**

Bit awkward, but it works.

 **Gomez**

Great Scott.

 **Harvey**

We can take it out if you don't feel comfortable with it.

 **Gomez**

It looks like you've gagged me.

 **Arendash**

Seriously, Gomez. If you don't like it, we can take it out.

 **Gomez**

No, no! It's certainly not an uncommon sight around here - why, I've been gagged plenty of times: self-administered, _and_ by Mrs Addams! She's a _virtuoso_ with those restraints!

 **Arendash**

Should I ask?

 **Gomez**

If you'd like!

 **Arendash**

 _Why?!_

 **Gomez**

 _Why?_ Escape artistry, old man! Mama once called me "the next Houdini".

 **Harvey**

Ah. Okay. Well, if you think that seeing you like this will bother the kids less...

 **Gomez**

Without a doubt, Arendash! And it'll bother _me_ less as well!

 **Arendash**

Well, uh – I am... glad you like it. It definitely doesn't feel uncomfortable?

 **Gomez**

Positively snug.

 **Harvey**

Delightful.

 **Arendash**

And it'll soak up the saliva itself. Though, we will need to take it out and clean it every day or so – so don't give yourself the impression that you'll be wearing it full time from now on. It's one of those things you've got to clean. You understand?

 **Gomez**

Couldn't you just order another?

 _Arendash ponders. He hadn't thought of that._

 **Arendash**

You know? Yeah! I'll do that. How many more should I order?

 **Gomez**

I suppose anywhere between 9 and 99 should be enough.

 _Harvey and Arendash exchange a glance._

 **Harvey**

Right – well, myself and Dr Arendash will go and do that. In the meantime, I think your uncle's on the next shift with Nurse Hatten, so they should be here any minute. Is it alright if we leave you alone?

 **Gomez**

Of course. Besides - I've just got to check the market - last I saw, Consolidated Fuzz was down!

 **Harvey**

Oh? Sounds like a tough situation.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Harvey! I don't own any.

 **Arendash** _(bemused)_

Take care, Gomez.

 _Gomez turns his attention back to the stock market website he's looking at, while the doctors leave the room. They look at one another._

 **Harvey**

Does he… let you call him Gomez?

 **Arendash**

I mean… no. I just do. I guess I should have asked him first.

 **Harvey**

You know, I _did_ ask him.

 **Arendash**

What did he say?

 **Harvey**

Nothing.

 **Arendash**

Well, maybe he just got used to it.

 **Harvey**

Me calling him "Mr Addams"?

 **Arendash**

No. Saying nothing.

 _The two doctors shrug, and continue on down the hall, passing Fester and Nurse Hatten on their way._


	17. Day 56

_Having just arrived from the Canary Islands, Ophelia bursts through the door of the master bedroom, looking intently for Gomez. When she sees him, it's as if all the air is sucked out of her - that's how deep the shock is._

 **Ophelia**

Oh, heavens!

 _Ophelia runs to the bed and pushes aside Gomez's computer stand and monitor, leaving him helpless and unable to communicate. He is so shocked by her sudden appearance that he doesn't even have time to process._

 **Ophelia**

Fair Gomez, _this_ is what's become of you? Why you don't look a bit like yourself. Perhaps merciful, in a sense, if you cannot understand what this disease of yours has wrought.

 _Still Gomez is just in shock at her sudden presence in the room. He blinks to try and get her attention but it doesn't work._

 **Ophelia**

You always were the reckless one, Gomez – needlessly putting yourself in harm's way for what? A brief exhilaration? Going on safari in Africa, lavish holidays to Indian marshlands, expeditions through the Amazon, all those lessons in trampolining and skydiving without a parachute… I would have thought one of those fanciful pursuits would have been your ruin. And my sister's ruin – let us not forget her – she was always just as reckless as you. And now, what is she? Caregiver to a vegetable? And now, one simple illness is your conqueror.

 _Ophelia picks up the tracheostomy tube that's connecting Gomez's trachea to the ventilator beside the bed, and toys with it._

 **Ophelia**

Although, perhaps I should have expected this. You did have such trouble with your breathing in the past, didn't you? Alas, Gomez – or, the body formerly known as Gomez, to be more frank – I may as well be talking to the wall - for you cannot understand a word I say. Tragic. You are much too young for this. Cut down in your prime. Alas, alas.

 _Ophelia's talk has really bothered Gomez, but he cannot answer back. Ophelia starts walking around the room, filing through Gomez's charts, curiously._

 **Ophelia**

Why, this is interesting. It says here you are due for physiotherapy between 4 and 5. And it has just gone four.

 _There's a silence._

 **Ophelia**

I have always felt like I would be quite good at physiotherapy. Should I wish to leave the opera, I have thought about pursuing it. Perhaps I could use your frail, ragdoll-like body as a test subject, Gomez? Well, I don't suppose you have an ounce of choice in the matter. Allow me.

 _Ophelia pulls the covers off the bed, and sees the pyjamas Gomez is wearing._

 **Ophelia**

Oh, heavens, no. Gomez… they have dressed you in undignified, children's clothes.

 _Ophelia thinks about it._

 **Ophelia**

Not that you care anymore. And perhaps the childlike appearance of this… _outfit…_ is an accurate reflection. The brain of a toddler is, after all, now much more advanced than your poor, damaged mind.

 _Gomez wants nothing more than to tell Ophelia how it is, to dispel any thoughts that he is cognitively impaired – but can't. Instead, he just suffers in anticipation of what she's going to say, and what her definition of "physiotherapy" even is._

 _Ophelia shakes her head sadly._

 **Ophelia**

Oh, dear. You are so limp. So toneless. Look at this atrophy.

 _She lifts his arm and then lets it drop by itself, sighing to herself as she does._

 **Ophelia**

My poor brother-in-law. Doomed to a life of vegetative purgatory.

 _Gomez feels these words drilling into his skull. She could not be saying anything more excruciating._

 _Ophelia lifts Gomez's arm again, and pulls it – far too hard. He flops forward, falling even further out of position._

 **Ophelia**

Oh, excellent. A good, solid pull. Maybe I should get into physiotherapy, after all.

 _She pulls him again, even harder, so hard in fact that she manages to pull him into a sitting up position before he falls backwards, thumping back into his lying down position. The pain Gomez feels is immense – and not the enjoyable kind of pain._

 _Ophelia moves to the other side of the bed and does the same jerking and pulling motions on Gomez's other arm, causing him to flop around limply every time she does it. She seems to think this is what constitutes a "good job"._

 _She then frowns, and surveys Gomez again._

 **Ophelia**

What about the head? I'll bet the therapists don't do physio on your head, now do they Gomez?

 _Dreading what is to come, Gomez can only watch as Ophelia easily pulls him up by his now severely aching arms into the sitting position again. Head flopping forward, she lifts his head up so that their eyes meet. Then, without warning, she puts her hand on top of his head and jerks his head forward and back, incredibly violently. So violently, in fact, that she manages to dislodge his tracheostomy tube and disconnect him from the ventilator. Still completely unable to breathe on his own, Gomez instantly knows something is wrong._

 _The ventilator begins making a loud beeping noise to signify that it's been disconnected. Ophelia startles, and lets Gomez's body drop back into a slumped, messy, lying down position (very clearly not positioned on purpose). Utterly confused and with no idea what to do, Ophelia looks around and shrugs, before reluctantly heading to leave the room, to call for help. Gomez literally cannot breathe, lacking the movement/muscle control to take a breath. He begins to suffocate._

 _As Ophelia reaches the door, however, it bursts open and Grandmama whizzes through, having heard the beeping. Without a second guess, she takes the tube and reconnects it (the way Arendash taught her), and the beeping stops. Gomez is relieved – but it takes him a few seconds to process and recover from what just happened._

 **Grandmama**

Ophelia! You've just arrived, and the first thing you do is try to suffocate my boy! At least wait until he's sleeping.

 **Ophelia**

Outrageous! I was reading his charts, and they said that Gomez needs his physiotherapy. I saw that, and obliged. You cannot ask for more.

 **Grandmama**

His physiotherapist is coming in at 4:45, Ophelia. Not just anyone can do it!

 **Ophelia**

Well, I think rules like that are in place only to curb natural talent for the craft.

 **Grandmama**

What have you done to him?

 **Ophelia**

I exercised his arms and head.

 **Grandmama**

His head?!

 **Ophelia**

Yes, and I could have exercised much more had this slight complication not arisen.

 **Grandmama**

His head is _extremely_ delicate, Ophelia. It's heavy and oh so close to his tracheotomy. Not a place for a travelling musician to lay her course touch.

 **Ophelia**

A tracheostomy. Is that what you call _that_ thing?

 **Grandmama**

Yes! Ophelia – please, listen. You're a lovely girl, but you gotta leave this to those who've been trained.

 **Ophelia**

Unbelievable. I was only trying to help poor Gomez in this trying time. To show my support and love to him – after all, he is my ex-fiancé _and_ my brother-in-law. It would be remiss not to care for him in his hour of infirmity. And it isn't as if he cares, or even understands that.

 **Grandmama**

What?

 **Ophelia**

It isn't as if he cares, or/

 **Grandmama**

/Or understands?

 **Ophelia**

Yes.

 **Grandmama**

What do you think is wrong with him?

 **Ophelia**

Well, in Morticia's heartwrenching letter, she described how he came down with an illness, barely survived, and how he was now bedridden and in need of 24/7 care. At that point, I stopped reading and resolved to come and visit right away.

 **Grandmama**

You didn't read the entire letter?

 **Ophelia**

I was far too busy arranging my flights.

 **Grandmama**

She explained everything in that letter. It was four pages long.

 **Ophelia**

Four pages too many, methinks. I understood all I needed to know within the first four sentences.

 **Grandmama**

So what _do_ you think is wrong?

 **Ophelia**

I don't know. I just read those sentences and arrived here. Though, upon seeing him – I know all I need to know.

 **Grandmama**

And what is it that you know?

 **Ophelia**

Well, he's a vegetable, is he not?

 _Grandmama sighs._

 **Grandmama**

No, Ophelia.

 **Ophelia**

No? Oh my. That is a relief. Just comatose?

 **Grandmama**

No, he's not in a coma. His eyes are open, for heavens' sake!

 **Ophelia**

Comatose individuals can be comatose with open eyes. I know after what happened to dear old Throckmorton after he jilted me for the second time. I swear, I didn't mean to throw him as hard as I did.

 _Grandmama nods sympathetically._

 **Grandmama**

I know, Ophelia. And Gomez was so looking forward to defending you, but we just don't think a man in his condition would be able to travel to the Canary Islands for the case.

 **Ophelia**

So what condition _is_ fair Gomez in, if not a comatose vegetable?

 **Grandmama**

Just paralysis.

 **Ophelia**

 _Just paralysis?_ You mean to say he's… completely cognitively intact?

 **Grandmama**

Whatever that is, sure.

 **Ophelia**

He has heard me say these dreadful things about him?

 **Grandmama**

I'm sure he'll accept your apology.

 **Ophelia**

Dear Gomez – I _am_ sorry. If I'd had known you were conscious and listening, I would never have said those things to your face.

 **Grandmama**

Good enough, I guess.

 **Ophelia**

Paralyzed, though – his entire body? Even his breathing?

 **Grandmama**

Evidently.

 **Ophelia**

Can he eat?

 **Grandmama**

No.

 **Ophelia**

Can he even expel any was/

 **Grandmama**

/ _No, Ophelia._

 **Ophelia**

How grim.

 **Grandmama**

Now, now. Grim would be good. This is _unbearable_ , not grim.

 **Ophelia**

How do you know he can understand me?

 **Grandmama**

He usually communicates using that computer. There is some sort of newfangled system that lets him use his eyes to type.

 **Ophelia**

Marvellous. Why hasn't he used it with me?

 **Grandmama**

Probably because it's over there, and he ought to be constantly looking at it to be able to use it.

 **Ophelia**

Oh, that ugly old thing.

 **Grandmama**

Let's reset it and make sure he's okay after that little… ventilator mishap.

 _Grandmama repositions the monitor in front of Gomez again, and while she's at it, she also repositions his top half into a more symmetrical, comfortable lying down position. As she steps away, Gomez gets his "voice" back._

 **Gomez**

Ophelia.

 **Ophelia**

 _Gomez!_ I/

 _But everyone's attention is stolen by the door opening again. It's Lurch, holding two massive bouquets of flowers. Ophelia beams. Lurch sets them down as far away from the bed as possible. He stares at Ophelia, groans loudly, and closes the door behind him._

 **Ophelia**

Ah, Gomez – these are for you. A token of my sympathy during this trying chapter of your life.

 **Grandmama**

Oh, how… lovely. Daisies.

 **Gomez**

Ah, Ophelia! If I weren't allergic, I'd be a tad more enthusiastic. But thank you.

 **Ophelia**

Nonsense. Just take an extra antihistamine each day – I'm sure it'll be old hat to you, what with the mountains of medication you're undoubtedly on.

 **Gomez**

Glad to see you.

 **Ophelia**

Oh, thank you Gomez. I just knew I had to see you when I read Morticia's letter. She painted a truly mournful picture of you.

 **Gomez**

She did? Where is it? Mournful, you say? Sounds exciting!

 **Ophelia**

Ah, a word picture, you foolish man. She described your turmoil and I simply had to come and see your sickly, incapacitated form in person.

 **Gomez**

Well, I do hope it lived up to your imagination.

 **Ophelia**

Don't be silly. Nothing ever does.

 _The door opens again and it's Morticia. She looks around and smiles slightly._

 **Morticia**

Well isn't this a delightful little party? Gomez, the physiotherapist will be twenty minutes late.

 **Ophelia**

Ah, no need for him to come at all. I have done quite enough physiotherapy work on Gomez.

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 **Grandmama**

I'll tell you about it later, Morticia. In the meantime, why don't you go to the guest room, Ophelia?

 **Morticia**

You must tell us if the bed is hard enough for your tastes.

 **Grandmama**

I can never get the right amount of nails for you.

 **Ophelia**

Very well. An afternoon siesta is beckoning me. Dear Gomez, do take care.

 _Ophelia leaves the room, throwing petals as she goes. Grandmama sighs._

 **Grandmama**

She dislodged his trach tube.

 _Morticia sighs, shocked._

 **Morticia**

Dear me! Gomez, darling – are you hurt?

 **Gomez**

Just a little frazzled, cara mia, but I'll be alright.

 **Morticia**

However could she be so careless?

 _The two look at one another. Gomez doesn't need to respond._

 **Morticia**

I suppose that's a charitable thing to ask, isn't it?

 **Grandmama**

You know, she thought Gomez was a vegetable.

 **Gomez**

Tish, you would have wanted to hear the things she had to say. Preposterous, demeaning language.

 **Grandmama**

And she didn't even read your letter.

 **Morticia**

I suppose nobody does read letters these days. I should have just texted her.

 **Grandmama**

I would have thought Ophelia the one to appreciate the personal touch.

 **Gomez**

She certainly does appreciate personally touching me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. Darling, are you in pain?

 **Gomez**

Yes, querida - it hurts in places I didn't even know could hurt! There are bones in my hands I thought too small to break!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, I'm sure they're not broken. Here, will I get you some pain medication?

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara. Where would I be without you?

 **Morticia**

Mon cher…

 **Gomez**

That French, Tish! It might not look it, but it's driving me wild.

 _Morticia, who was going to get the meds, turns back around and looks sadly at her husband. She goes back over to him, and strokes his cheek softly, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. She rises._

 **Morticia**

Later, darling, later… if you'd like, I can try giving you a nice, relaxing massage.

 **Gomez**

Sounds divine, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

To counteract any needless pain my sister caused you.

 **Gomez**

I can think of nothing greater in the whole world, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Then tonight it is, my darling.

 _Morticia leans down to give Gomez another kiss on the forehead._

 _Grandmama, meanwhile, has been preparing Gomez's next round of medications._

 **Grandmama**

If you two lovebirds are done making arrangements, here's Gomez's next round, ready to go.

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank you, mama.

 **Grandmama**

Now, I'm off to the playroom. I have to meditate.

 **Gomez**

Have you tried it upside down?

 **Grandmama**

Huh. No. Maybe that's why it hasn't been working.

 _Grandmama shrugs, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her._


	18. Day 59

_**AN:**_ Sorry it's been a while. Bit overflowed with other commitments due to Christmas, and all that. Hoping you had a nice couple days as well. I watched a lot of Addams and played a lot of Pokémon. And ate. Quite a bit. I was toying with maybe doing a chapter of this based around what goes on at Christmas. If that's something you'd like to read, go for it. It'd probably be quite fluffy, if you're into that. Also, Grandma Frump in the beginning of this scene acts like _so many people_ I've encountered in life when I mention my aunt's condition. Don't assume anything about cognitive ability based on the appearance of a patient, it's demeaning as all hell, especially if you're one of those people who think they should be let go due to having no quality of life (though I'm sure that's a very valid point in many situations, it's not universally valid so don't make the assumption, pals). Anyway that's my preachy rant over, presenting, the chapter...

 _Grandma Frump, who's come to pick up Ophelia, paces Morticia's boudoir. She's called Morticia inside for a private chat before leaving with Ophelia. Morticia is sitting at her vanity, not looking forward to what's about to happen. She's not sure what her mother is going to say, but she doesn't think it's going to be pleasant._

 **Grandma Frump**

Morticia. Sit down, love. You and I need to have a little talk.

 **Morticia**

What about?

 **Grandma Frump**

Gomez.

 **Morticia**

What about Gomez?

 **Grandma Frump**

He's sick, Morticia.

 **Morticia**

Why, mother. You noticed!

 **Grandma Frump**

No, Morticia, listen. He's even sicker than I thought, and I'm very worried indeed.

 **Morticia**

Oh, you shouldn't, mother. Gomez doesn't want people to worry.

 **Grandma Frump**

It's not him I'm worried about, it's you!

 **Morticia**

Me?

 **Grandma Frump**

You're working yourself into the ground taking care of that man!

 **Morticia**

I am?

 **Grandma Frump**

You never stop.

 **Morticia**

Well, he must be taken care of twenty-four hours a day, so I thought it only fitting that I/

 **Grandma Frump**

/Morticia. Listen to your mother. He's too sick for this to be sustainable.

 **Morticia**

Too sick? Unsustainable? Mother, I thought better of you.

 **Grandma Frump**

He's a lost cause, Morticia.

 **Morticia**

 _A lost_ – I – what do you mean? How could you call him a lost cause when he's recovering so well!

 **Grandma Frump**

Recovering? He hasn't moved an inch since I arrived.

 **Morticia**

Have you not seen his eyes?

 **Grandma Frump**

Well, yes. But those are just about all I've seen moving. Not what I'd consider positive progress. And definitely what I'd call "recovering well".

 **Morticia**

But you need to understand that before, he couldn't even look around. His eyeballs were frozen in place. He couldn't even close his eyelids. But now, his eyes are back to flawless functionality and/

 **Grandma Frump**

/But he can't breathe, Morticia.

 **Morticia**

And? Neither can Thing.

 **Grandma Frump**

Forget Thing for a moment and listen to me. Don't you think it's time you just… let nature take its course?

 **Morticia**

What do you mean?

 **Grandma Frump**

He's too sick, Morticia. He's going to die.

 **Morticia**

He most certainly is not!

 **Grandma Frump**

I've seen it happen before, my child. It pains me to have to say this, but I'm your mother, and I have to tell you the truth when I see it. All you're doing is sustaining him.

 **Morticia**

Mother!

 **Grandma Frump**

You've had thirteen wonderful years with him, Morticia, but there's no way out of this.

 **Morticia**

I simply cannot believe you'd say this to me.

 **Grandma Frump**

Why not? I know deep down, you've got to be thinking it.

 **Morticia**

Mother, stop! No. I haven't been thinking anything of the sort. How could you say this when he's right there, in the other room?

 **Grandma Frump**

From what Ophelia's said to me in her letters, he/

 **Morticia**

/Mother, please.

 **Grandma Frump**

No – listen. I want you to be happy, Morticia. That's all I want. And I just can't see how somebody could be happy taking care of their invalid husband like this, with no recompense, no reward.

 **Morticia**

His life is my reward.

 **Grandma Frump**

But what kind of a life does he have?

 **Morticia**

Yes, things may be difficult for him right now, but he's recovering. And we have each other.

 **Grandma Frump**

He can move his eyes around a little. That's it. That's all he can do.

 **Morticia**

And that makes all the difference.

 **Grandma Frump**

Morticia, listen. I love him too – he's my son-in-law. More than a little scatterbrained, even more than a little eccentric, but kind-hearted. Passionate. Generous. Polite. Rich. A stud, to boot. And, most importantly, perfect for you. Can't believe I tried to pawn him off to Ophelia. But, and you know this as well as I do, that he always was sickly.

 **Morticia**

Yes, but this is an indiscriminate illness. It can strike even the healthiest of people.

 **Grandma Frump**

Morticia… you poor dear.

 **Morticia**

It's poor Gomez you ought to be concerned about, mother. You haven't even spoken to him properly.

 **Grandma Frump**

What could he possibly say to me? Can he say anything? Can he even think?

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear. Ophelia's gotten to you too.

 **Grandma Frump**

What has she got to do with this?

 **Morticia**

She seemed convinced that Gomez was mentally impaired, brain-damaged in some way.

 **Grandma Frump**

He isn't?

 **Morticia**

 _No,_ mother. What did you think the computer was for?

 **Grandma Frump**

Some kind of life support thingy? Is it not keeping him alive or something?

 **Morticia**

No, mother, he communicates with it. If you'd spent even a minute in his company, you'd realize he's still the same darling Gomez beneath the havoc his illness has wrought.

 **Grandma Frump**

And he's content with it?

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, of course not. Just inconvenienced.

 **Grandma Frump**

Inconvenienced.

 **Morticia**

Why, yes. There's so much he cannot do at the moment, so much that needs doing for him.

 **Grandma Frump**

Like eating, breathing, going to the/

 **Morticia**

/But he's still himself. His mind is not sick.

 **Grandma Frump**

Maybe he's more of a nut than I thought.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _mother_ – I knew you'd come around! You must tell him that. I feel that we must do all we can to keep his self-esteem up at a time like this.

 **Grandma Frump**

He's feeling insecure?

 **Morticia**

Well, he hasn't said so, but if I know him, he'll be missing his old self terribly.

 **Grandma Frump**

Doesn't take a crystal ball to assume something like that.

 _Grandma Frump sighs, sitting beside Morticia and taking her hand._

 **Grandma Frump**

Maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly.

 **Morticia**

Yes, you did. But all is forgiven.

 **Grandma Frump**

I'm sorry I said that about him. I just always want what's best for you both.

 **Morticia**

You thought to die would be best for him if he were mentally impaired?

 **Grandma Frump**

I suppose so.

 **Morticia**

I suppose I see your point. Though, I don't know if I would have been able to let him go even then.

 **Grandma Frump**

You love him.

 **Morticia**

I love him. He'd do the same for me, in a heartbeat.

 **Grandma Frump**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

Come, mother. Help me give him his lunch.

 _Morticia gets up and leads Grandma Frump to the kitchen, where she opens the refrigerator and takes out a container of liquified food. Grandma Frump watches as she opens the lid. Then, she opens up a drawer and takes a syringe out. The syringe has a tube-like opening instead of a needle. She begins to bring the liquified food into the syringe. Grandma Frump sighs again._

 **Grandma Frump** _(still apologetic)_

I am sorry.

 **Morticia**

 _Please_ , mother.

 **Grandma Frump**

What is it?

 **Morticia**

Last night's dinner. Smoked eel. I thought he could do with some seafood.

 **Grandma Frump**

He can't taste it, the poor devil.

 **Morticia**

Of course not, but a man must be fed one way or another.

 **Grandma Frump**

Do the doctors have an estimate as to when he might be well again?

 **Morticia**

How well?

 **Grandma Frump**

Back to himself, I mean. Fully.

 **Morticia**

Possibly never.

 _Grandma Frump is about to react before Morticia stops her._

 **Morticia**

But – there is a chance he could get back to what they call "almost-perfect".

 **Grandma Frump**

Oh.

 **Morticia**

But we can't know when that will be until he shows some other sign of movement. To have the doctors put together an estimated time of recovery based on the speed at which different parts of his body regain function.

 **Grandma Frump**

I could loan him Uncle Blob's powerchair.

 **Morticia**

Does Uncle Blob not need it anymore?

 **Grandma Frump**

He does, but he's in hibernation right now.

 **Morticia**

Ah. I see. You don't think he'll miss it?

 **Grandma Frump**

The winter's long, Morticia. And Gomez needs it more right now.

 **Morticia**

What a delightful offer, mother. Come, let's tell him while we feed him. Come, come.

 _Morticia beckons her mother to follow her into the master bedroom, where Gomez is listening to a podcast – probably Lore._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling. I _am_ sorry to interrupt your show.

 **Gomez**

No worries, cara mia, I was drifting off anyway.

 **Morticia**

Look who's here to collect Ophelia!

 **Gomez**

Granny!

 **Grandma Frump**

I came in to see you earlier, but you were asleep.

 **Gomez**

Huh. Sorry I couldn't be more engaging.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling. Mother has an offer she wants to share. She will explain it while I give you your lunch, dear.

 _Morticia gently pulls the covers down, and pulls Gomez's nightshirt up until she sees the PEG button he's got inserted. She readies the syringe, which is full of the liquefied smoked eel, and connects it with a tube to the button. She attaches the syringe to a stand next to the bed, and lets gravity do the work, allowing the food to flow down the tube and into Gomez's stomach through the direct line of the feeding tube. As she steadies the stand and ensures everything's in place, Grandma Frump explains her idea to Gomez._

 **Grandma Frump**

You know Uncle Blob?

 **Gomez**

Of course! A fine, upstanding fellow.

 **Grandma Frump**

Not anymore. He's used a powerchair for the past year and a half ever since the gangrene got his other leg.

 **Gomez**

A real shame. Didn't take eyes to see how much he liked having a leg to stand on. But I'll bet the old man looks sharp with two matching peg legs!

 **Grandma Frump**

The second one hasn't arrived yet – got lost in the post.

 **Gomez**

I should have known. Those Amazon deliveries can't be trusted. The delivery boy they sent us had never even been to the Amazon!

 **Grandma Frump**

False advertising is at its most rampant these days. But listen, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Oh, yes. Yes. Uncle Blob.

 **Grandma Frump**

Uncle Blob's in hibernation right now, and perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to loan you his powerchair until he wakes up.

 **Morticia**

What do you think, Gomez darling?

 **Gomez**

I think it's wonderful, Tish! I could go anywhere I wanted! So long as it's accessible. Hm. We may need to get started on that, now I think of it.

 **Morticia**

Good idea, darling. I'll call Lurch to install a lift – or ramps – as soon as the time allows.

 **Gomez**

Capital, querida.

 **Grandma Frump**

I'll call Uncle Blob's landlord, see if I can't pick it up tomorrow evening.

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's face, smiling coyly._

 **Morticia**

I'll ask your doctors if there's a way to drive the chair with your eyes.

 **Gomez**

I'll bet there is. Technology these days!

 _Morticia leans even closer, about to kiss his forehead._

 **Morticia**

It truly is wonderful, isn't it?

 **Grandma Frump**

Now – let me find Ophelia. I've lost her again.

 _Morticia and Gomez both look at Grandma Frump, who's ruined this semi-intimate moment._

 **Morticia**

Lost her?

 **Grandma Frump**

I was just getting ready to leave when she wandered off somewhere. That minx. She just vanished into thin air.

 **Gomez**

Vanished into thin air?

 **Morticia**

Dear Ophelia.

 **Gomez**

Well in that case, don't look _too_ hard.


	19. Day 68

_Fester is well inside Gomez's line of sight, blocking his view of everything. The rag in his mouth has been taken out, while Fester brushes Gomez's teeth._

 **Fester**

I know Morticia's usually the one who does this. Sorry 'bout that. I may be a little wobbly.

 _Fester fumbles with the brush._

 **Fester**

If it gets too much just blink at me. But you'll be okay! Just close your eyes, and pretend like something else's happening.

 _Fester considers the contradictory nature of what he just said._

 **Fester**

On the other hand no don't close your eyes, I need them to talk to ya.

 _Fester drops the toothbrush, his hands incredibly shaky. The brush lands against the tracheostomy tube, getting foamy toothpaste all over Gomez's chin and neck. Fester groans, exasperated at himself._

 **Fester**

Sorry, I'm a little distracted.

 _Fester wipes the foam off of Gomez's chin and neck with a square of tissue paper from a dispenser the doctors attached to the wall._

 **Fester**

Pugsley asked me to watch his stick of dynamite this morning before he went to school. It's gonna blow any second! Can't miss the fireworks.

 _Fester resumes brushing, moving the brush to Gomez's right upper back teeth._

 **Fester**

What?

 _Fester stares as he keeps brushing._

 **Fester**

Not gonna say anything?

 _Nothing from Gomez._

 **Fester**

Just because I'm not Morticia doesn't mean I deserve the silent treatment.

 _Fester moves the brush to Gomez's left upper back teeth._

 **Fester**

Are ya embarrassed? Don't be! What self respecting man hasn't had his teeth brushed by his uncle before? Well, I guess I haven't.

 _Fester shakes his head, dismissing the thought._

 **Fester**

Gomez, cheer up. Is there something wrong?

 _Gomez blinks at Fester._

 **Fester**

I dunno what you're trying to say, Gomez.

 _Gomez shoots a steely stare at Fester._

 **Fester**

Oh, I'm standing in front of the computer aren't I?

 _Fester moves just a bit out of Gomez's line of sight, which lets Gomez see the screen again._

 **Fester**

I guess Morticia and Wednesday don't take up so much space.

 _Fester looks around at the stick of dynamite, excitement returning once he thinks about it again._

 **Fester**

Nothing yet.

 **Gomez**

Maybe Pugsley's got a slow stick.

 **Fester**

Those slow sticks are everywhere these days, can't buy a pack without at least a quarter of 'em being slow ones.

 _Fester resumes brushing Gomez's teeth, now moving to his lower left back teeth. As Fester does so, Gomez seems to close his eyes abruptly, as if a wave of pain has hit him._

 **Fester**

Ya okay there Gomez?

 _Eyes still closed, Fester stops brushing Gomez's teeth and feels his forehead, which is suddenly a little sweaty._

 **Fester**

Gomez?

 _Gomez opens his eyes and rushedly (and perhaps sloppily) begins to type._

 **Gomez**

Headache.

 **Fester**

Aw, unplanned headaches are the worst. Where hurts? That's what the doctor told me to ask ya. I'm doing good, right?

 **Gomez**

Left side.

 **Fester**

Your whole left side?!

 **Gomez**

Near ear.

 **Fester**

Oh. Ya want me to reposition?

 _Gomez blinks once, giving the affirmative._

 **Fester**

Okay, ya just gotta sit tight, let me just clean ya up.

 _Fester decides to stop the teeth brushing early, and dunks the brush back into a glass of water beside the bed. He yanks the suction device from the bedside table and suctions away all the fluids in and around Gomez's mouth (like drool, toothpaste and water) until he's satisfied that there's no choking hazard for Gomez. Then, he puts the machine back on the bedside table, and in his clunky, Fester-like way, puts his hands under Gomez's head and scoops it up a little. He very slowly turns it on its side, so that the left side of his head is sunken into the pillow, cushioned by its softness. Also, Gomez's left eye is sunk into the pillow, so that no light gets in and makes things even more painful. Fester then rolls the monitor stand around so that Gomez's right eye can still see the monitor in perfect view. Fester lowers the monitor down a bit so Gomez can get a better look._

 **Fester**

How's that, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Fester.

 _Fester remembers something one of the doctors said about painkillers._

 **Fester**

Say, Gomez. Do ya want some of... the good stuff? Get ya all sleepy and pain-free?

 _Gomez blinks in the affirmative, his head feeling slightly better, but still stinging with pain. And, one should note – this is not the familiar pain of the rack, or being hit in the head with a miniature wrecking ball. This is a deeper, unsolicited and unwelcome ache that he has no control over._

 **Fester**

I think there's a half bottle in the cabinet, Mama musta left ya some.

 _Fester goes over to the cabinet. As he does, the dynamite fuse's cracking grows louder. Fester gets distracted, watching the dynamite. Gomez's attention is stolen by the dynamite too, wanting to see the blast. Maybe that'd cheer him up, Fester thinks. The fuse begins to spark. Fester jumps on the spot._

 **Fester**

Oooh goody, here it goes!

 _Fester stops what he's doing to watch. Then, all of a sudden, a huge thumping crack rings out and some drywall falls from the ceiling. Fester claps with delight._

 _As the blast happens, Gomez, not wanting to miss it, instinctively tries to turn his head to look around with every muscle in his body. Surprisingly, he actually makes some headway (pun absolutely intended). Instead of nothing happening, the gargantuan effort instead does actually result in Gomez managing to turn his head a tiny bit off of its side. His head position is now halfway between the back of his head resting on the pillow and his head being turned on its side. It's just below midway between those two placements. Gomez still hasn't moved nearly enough to be able to see the explosion, but he's so taken aback by what just happened that he forgets he now can't use the eye-gaze system to speak, because he isn't directly looking at it anymore._

 _Also, as soon as he moves his head, he feels another twinge of pain. Fester turns around and sees this happen just in time. Fester's eyes widen._

 **Fester**

GOMEZ!

 _Fester processes this._

 **Fester**

Gomez, didya see that? Wait, no, ya - uh - I -

 _Fester is so excited that he begins to stammer._

 **Fester**

I gotta tell Morticia, I gotta – uh, one second – wait – MORTICIA!

 _Fester shuffles on the spot before looking around, frantic._

 **Fester**

MORTICIA!

 _Fester near-gallops out of the room, abandoning Gomez completely._

 _Fester stumbles down the hallway to Morticia's boudoir, where she's just hung up the phone, startled by Fester._

 **Morticia**

Fester?!

 **Fester**

MORTICIA!

 **Morticia**

What is it?!

 **Fester**

HE MOVED HIS HEAD!

 **Morticia**

He did?!

 **Fester**

HE DID!

 **Morticia**

When?!

 **Fester**

RIGHT NOW! C'MERE AND I'LL MAKE HIM DO IT AGAIN!

 _Fester grabs Morticia's hand and he runs/pulls her down the hallway, back to the master bedroom. Gomez's head is in the same position he moved it to._

 _Fester and Morticia stand over him._

 **Fester**

I – I just put his head on its side, because it was hurting him, but then Pugsley's dynamite went boom, and he tried to get a look. Didn't get as far as seeing it, but he definitely moved!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, did you hear that?!

 _Gomez looks up in the affirmative, as thrilled as the others._

 **Fester**

Gomez, Gomez, Gomez, can you move your head back to where it was before?!

 _Gomez thinks about it. "I'll give it the old Addams college try", he resolves, flushed with excitement and hopefulness. With all his strength and undivided concentration (a rarity for Gomez), he attempts to move his head back to where it had been before. With less success this time, he still does manage to shift his head's position a little bit back downwards – not as long a movement as before, but still undeniably a movement. Morticia immediately applauds before taking his hand the moment she sees it._

 **Morticia**

Gomez! Here, darling, let me get that for you.

 _She very gently lifts his head fully back onto its side so that he can see the computer again._

 **Morticia**

Darling, Fester's right, you moved your head!

 **Gomez**

A triumph of the Addams spirit, cara mia!

 **Morticia**

You know that the therapists have been looking for something like this to happen?

 **Fester**

They'll have you looking around in no time at all Gomez. Looking up, down, around, backwards…

 **Morticia**

Now, now, Fester. Let's save those ambitious goals until after he's regained just a little more movement. How does it feel, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Wonderful, cara.

 **Mortica**

It came so easily to you, darling.

 **Fester**

Yeah, Gomez! You're a natural!

 **Morticia**

Like you said, dear, it's that Addams spirit.

 **Fester**

Never thought I'd be so impressed by a guy looking around, but here we are!

 _Morticia is overcome, though her way of being overcome is still very much Morticia – no wild hysterics. Just a very stoic, but all-encompassing, quiet, elation._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, _mon cher._

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 _Morticia brings her head close to his, and kisses his forehead. She strokes his cheek sensually._

 **Morticia**

My, Gomez. You're perspiring.

 **Fester**

Oh yeah, he has a headache.

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes, darling, that's right. Of course, you do. Would you like some medication for that?

 _Gomez gives her an affirmative blink._

 **Morticia**

Not even using the computer to respond. My, Gomez, dear – perhaps you _do_ need a nap. You've had such a busy morning with the therapists, the medications, the suctioning, the re-dressing, the bath…

 _Gomez looks up again in the affirmative._

 **Morticia**

Yes, darling, yes. I know. I know. I can see the tiredness in your eyes. Fester, won't you get his painkillers from the cooler?

 _Fester stumbles over to get them from the drawer, which has a cooler sitting atop it. Morticia sits with Gomez, neither saying anything to each other for a moment._

 **Gomez**

Stay with me, querida.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, of course. Whatever you desire.

 **Fester**

Spoiled brat.

 **Morticia**

Hush, Fester.

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's face again, and goes around to the other side of the bed, where Fester hands her the medication._

 **Morticia**

You are excused, Fester.

 **Fester**

Gee, so much for thanks.

 **Morticia**

We are both very thankful, Fester. But Gomez needs to rest, especially after the morning he's had, and the excitement of just now. It's probably an overload of stimuli for him.

 **Fester**

Alright then – see ya at dinner, Morticia. I'm going gravedigging.

 **Morticia**

Have fun, Fester!

 _Fester leaves and closes the door behind him. Morticia draws the curtains. She waits just a moment, and begins to remove her dress, changing into a silken nightgown that's hanging up in her wardrobe nearby. She turns to look at Gomez, who's not really able to see this, because of where his head is facing. After she's dressed herself in the gown, she glides into his line of sight and bends down to stroke his cheek again._

 **Morticia**

My love…

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 **Morticia**

Gomez…

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 **Morticia**

My poor, darling, brave Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Tish, you mustn't forget yourself.

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher…_

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 _Morticia leans in and kisses Gomez's forehead again, then, after a long suspended moment of intimacy between them, she takes the meds, which have been pre-liquefied and refrigerated for this express purpose, and reaches around Gomez's nightgown before finding an opening between the buttons._

 _She reaches through and finds Gomez's feeding tube, and then sets the syringe of the prepared liquid up at his bedside, on the stand (much like how she did with Grandma Frump the other day). Slowly, the medication trickles down the tube and into Gomez's stomach. She affixes the syringe to the bedside stand and lets it flow. Then, she moves around to her side of the bed. She curls up beside Gomez, cuddling him softly and gently._

 _Gomez is already drowsy after about two minutes spent cuddling. Morticia sits up a little, and examines Gomez's face. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be sleep-drooling already – not that he can help that when he's awake either. Not wanting to disturb him any further – after all, he is exhausted – she turns the computer screen off and returns to cuddling him. The two lovers lie still and close until a few hours later, when the children return home from school._


	20. Day 70

**Morticia**

Look who it is!

 **Pugsley**

What?

 **Morticia**

Why don't you show him yourself, my love?

 _Morticia wheels Gomez into Pugsley's bedroom, in a powerchair. There's a blanket covering his knees and a stand to hold the eye-gaze computer in place. This is the first time Pugsley has seen Gomez anywhere else in the house in two months. The chair only arrived today, while Pugsley was at school. Morticia and Gomez have decided to surprise him. It has been two days since we last checked in, and some progress has been made. Gomez can move his head a little now. He's able to turn his head a little to each side and look around the room. Though still, obviously, this movement is, when compared to that of an able-bodied individual, still severely limited – it's everything to him as it's the first real movement outside of his eyes since he got sick. Just the tiniest moving of his head up, down, left, right and around means everything. Nothing else has changed except that his eye movement is now pretty much back to normal. He operates the computer quickly, efficiently and communicates faster by the day._

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, my boy!

 _Pugsley rises to his feet._

 **Pugsley**

 _Father!?_

 **Gomez**

Son!

 **Pugsley**

You're… up! Kind of.

 **Morticia**

That's right, Pugsley dear, look, now you can be anywhere in the house and have a conversation with your father again!

 **Pugsley**

I could do that before. He just couldn't talk back.

 **Gomez**

My boy, I've missed spending time with you.

 **Pugsley**

I've missed playing trains with you.

 **Gomez**

Son! I want nothing more than to play with those trains.

 **Pugsley**

Oh, can we? Can we?

 **Gomez**

Tish, could you bring us to my playroom?

 **Morticia**

Of course, my darlings. You're both like little boys when it comes to your trains.

 **Pugsley**

I thought I _was_ a little boy.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez out of Pugsley's room, Pugsley following straight behind them._

 **Pugsley**

Don't worry, father, I can press the detonator for you! Or I could always just take _your_ hand and hold _your_ fingers and use _my_ hands to make _your_ hands press the detonator instead!

 **Gomez**

I'd love nothing more, my son.

 _Morticia closes the door behind them._

* * *

 _It's been about forty-five minutes when Morticia returns to the playroom. There is a pile of wrecked trains on the side of the tracks, and the bridge is still smoking. Pugsley is squished onto Gomez's lap, his head resting on his father's chest. She watches them without them noticing._

 **Pugsley**

And what about this one here? In your neck?

 **Gomez**

That one is incredibly important - it keeps me alive. Without it, I couldn't breathe and I would suffocate.

 **Pugsley**

You _still_ can't breathe on your own?

 **Gomez**

No.

 **Pugsley**

That's... amazing.

 **Gomez**

Thrilling, isn't it? To dance so closely with death?

 **Pugsley**

Oh, yes. But - it's been so long.

 _Pugsley sighs, very dramatically._

 **Pugsley**

Full disclosure, I liked it more when you could _do_ things. It was just... _better_. You could go wherever you wanted, but now you're stuck until someone wheels you somewhere else. You could play duel to the death with me, or help me with my assignments. And you didn't have strangers coming in to look after you. I don't like the nurses, father.

 **Gomez**

But they keep me alive, son. I need them!

 **Pugsley**

I wish they didn't have to.

 **Gomez**

I know, son, me too. This whole illness has been so inconvenient, I'm a busy man, you know.

 **Pugsley**

When will you be back to normal? Please say soon.

 **Gomez**

I can't say. We don't know, not even the doctors know. It could take months, or years.

 **Pugsley**

 _Nooooo_ , _please_ , don't say years! Who's gonna help me with my English assignments? Mother never helps unless it's Shakespeare, and we've moved on to poetry now! And who's gonna read me a bedtime story now that mother is always just looking after you at night?

 **Gomez**

Young man, there's no rulebook that says I can't still do these things.

 **Pugsley** _(spurred on by genuine childlike curiosity)_

And father? How many tubes are in you now? How many are keeping you alive?

 **Gomez** _(not wanting to upset Pugsley but still wanting to tell him the truth)_

Well, son, there is this one in my stomach, where all the food goes.

 **Pugsley**

You can't eat anything, that's what mother said.

 **Gomez**

No, my boy, not anymore. I can't swallow either - that's why I drool.

 _Pugsley sighs dramatically again._

 **Gomez**

Son, I have to tell you the facts.

 **Pugsley**

I hate it when you drool.

 **Gomez**

I do too. I wish you didn't have to see it.

 **Pugsley**

It makes you seem like a baby. I hate babies. Actually you're even worse than a baby, because at least a baby can move, and breathe and stuff. You can't.

 _Pugsley looks at Gomez as if expecting him to look upset. Gomez is, of course, upset, but his face remains exactly as it was. In this moment, Gomez maybe doesn't feel so bad that his face can't move – he doesn't want his son to see him upset. Pugsley plays with the feeding tube that's poking out of Gomez's nightshirt, absentmindedly._

 **Pugsley**

So you know how I said about my English assignment? Could I... get a hand?

 **Gomez** _(genuinely thrilled to help his son)_

Of course! English was my best subject, you know.

 _Pugsley stretches horizontally across the powerchair, atop his father's lap. Pugsley kicks his feet and dangles them over the armrests (and his father's arm) while he reclines back and rests himself against the other armrest (and his father's other arm), paying no mind to Gomez's potential discomfort, lost in thought about poetry._

 **Pugsley**

So the teacher wants us to explain what we think _I Felt a Funeral in My Brain_ is about.

 **Gomez**

Ah, Dickinson!

 **Pugsley**

I mean, she's nice and all, she reminds me of Grandmama, but I just don't know about the poem.

 **Gomez**

We'll read it line by line. That can help us understand it better.

 **Pugsley**

Alright, I guess.

 **Gomez**

So when you hear me finish the line, you repeat it aloud after me. You understand?

 **Pugsley**

Got it, father.

 **Gomez**

"I felt a funeral in my brain..."

 _Gomez firstly "recites" the line, and Pugsley follows. About halfway through the poem, Morticia can take it no more and she comes in properly._

 **Morticia**

Ah, my two intellectuals.

 **Pugsley**

Hello, mother.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, you've joined us at the perfect time. Dickinson.

 **Morticia**

Ah, a true wordsmith. I've always wondered if we were related - of course, I do often wonder why she so favoured the wearing of white. Otherwise, perfect.

 **Pugsley**

She reminds me of Grandmama.

 **Morticia**

Oh, won't Grandmama be delighted to hear you say that. Why don't you go tell her? Put a hold on the homework and let your father and I have a little talk, just for a few moments?

 **Pugsley**

Okay, mother.

 _Pugsley worms his way off his father's chair, and scampers out of the room._

 **Gomez**

What is it, my dear?

 _Morticia smiles, bemused._

 **Morticia**

Nothing, my darling. I just wanted to get him off of you and don't think I can lift him anymore.

 **Gomez**

He is growing like a weed.

 **Morticia**

I've always adored that expression. So vividly descriptive.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, querida.

 **Morticia**

I know you don't have the heart to ask him to move.

 **Gomez** _(able to be a bit freer with his frustrations now that Pugsley's gone)_

Wouldn't be the only thing I can't do right now.

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear Gomez. You do look out of sorts. Let me get you some wine.

 **Gomez**

Wine?

 **Morticia**

Yes. I read something about wine being a potential growth enhancer for African Stranglers and the website recommended I administer it via a sponge. When I tried it out with Cleopatra earlier, the thought came to me - why not use it on you as well?

 **Gomez**

Capital idea, Tish.

 **Morticia**

What would you like? What year? 93? No - wait, 91, even?

 **Gomez**

Ah, but I'd been saving that 91.

 **Morticia**

For what?

 **Gomez**

I don't know. Let's open it.

 _Gomez watches as Morticia knocks on Thing's box. Thing opens it, and produces a bottle of '91 wine. Morticia takes a wine glass from one of the playroom's expensive cabinets, and holds it out for Thing to pour. When the glass is full, Morticia sets it down, and takes the bottle from Thing._

 **Morticia / Gomez**

Thank you, Thing.

 _Morticia keeps Thing's box open._

 **Morticia**

May I have my sponge from earlier, Thing?

 _Thing descends and then re-emerges, handing Morticia a small sponge on a stick._

 **Morticia**

Efficient as always, Thing.

 _Thing descends, closing the box._

 _Morticia turns around to Gomez, dipping the sponge in the wine glass, swirling it around so it absorbs as much wine as possible. Before taking a sip herself, she carefully removes the drool rag in her husband's mouth and puts in a disposable bag attached to the back of the powerchair. Then, she puts the sponge in Gomez's mouth and makes sure to move it around his tongue so he can taste it. She keeps it there for about twenty seconds, sipping from the wine glass herself as she does._

 **Gomez**

To love, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

To love, mon cher.

 _Morticia, realizing she spoke French, leans in and kisses her husband's forehead._


	21. Day 71

_Morticia has decided that as much as the two of them are content staying in their home, that Gomez must be brought to experience the outside world again. It's a quiet day, pleasantly dull. Morticia, Grandmama and Fester have all helped in dressing Gomez today – Grandmama has dug out his old clothes. The ones he wore before he decided to stick to his same best suit. She and the rest of the family have dressed him in his white shirt, his old sweater, his old ¾ length pants (with awkwardly fitted circulation tights underneath, to Gomez's embarrassment), very high socks and his regular black shoes. Over that, they place his coat on him, and drape a blanket on his lap. This may seem excessive, but they want to be careful he doesn't get too cold. Better to be too hot and have removable layers than be too cold and have nothing to warm up with._

 _Using head controls (thanks to his regaining that little bit of head movement), Gomez can drive the powerchair himself, but Morticia, worried about his rather lacklustre driving abilities, decides she'll push the chair (not a mean feat, it's heavy – then again, she's the arm-wrestling champion of the family) herself._

 _It's around eight, and no one really pays them that much attention as they go through a public park. Of course, Morticia brings Gomez there only so the two of them can judge the rather unsightly areas of the park (the pristine grass, flowerbeds, little gardens, and puppy play area). Also, however, the park is quiet around this time, and if possible, Morticia feels it would be better for Gomez's self-esteem for him not to be seen in this state by anyone they know._

 _She pushes him past a particularly disconcerting hedge sculpture of a Cupid._

 **Morticia**

How unsightly!

 **Gomez**

Indeed, my dear.

 **Morticia**

And it was so pretty before, unshaped. Wild. Frenzied.

 **Gomez**

A thing of beauty.

 **Morticia**

Now look at it. Saccharine, vile.

 **Gomez**

There are just so many that fail to recognize the natural beauty of wild boxwood!

 **Morticia**

They _do_ say beauty is subjective. You don't think they might see this outrageous thing as beautiful?

 **Gomez**

All beauty but yours is subjective, cara mia.

 **Morticia** _(touched by this sudden compliment)_

 _Gomez_ …

 **Gomez** _(overcome by passion)_

Tish. Kiss me.

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez!_ In a public park?!

 **Gomez**

I'd kiss you myself if I could, my beautiful black orchid.

 **Morticia**

Oh, you mad Castillian. Even with your body so impaired, that blood courses through your veins so gloriously!

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia_ , I ache for you. I dream of holding you again every night.

 **Morticia** _(genuinely a little heartbroken by that)_

Dear Gomez. You poor, brave, darling man.

 _Morticia stops wheeling Gomez along, and stands in front of him, facing him head on. Then, she leans in and kisses his forehead._

 **Gomez** _(overcome by his usual passion, but driven mad by the fact that he has no way to act on it)_

 _Again_ , my love. I can't stand it!

 _Morticia leans in again, and tenderly strokes his face before leaning in and kissing Gomez's forehead again several more times._

 **Morticia** _(doting)_

Poor darling.

 _Morticia takes Gomez's hand off the armrest of the powerchair and squeezes it._

 **Morticia**

You will be well again soon, dear. Think of how much you've already regained.

 **Gomez**

But it isn't enough!

 **Morticia**

I know, _cavaliero mio_. But soon, you'll be back to your old self.

 **Gomez**

Good. I have a million kisses to bestow upon you.

 **Morticia**

 _Bubeleh…_

 **Gomez**

Tish, that word!

 _Morticia leans down, and kisses Gomez on the forehead again, stroking his cheek after she does so._

 **Morticia**

You sweet, kind, beautiful man…

 **Gomez**

My ravishing, talented, incomparable _querida_ …

 **Henson**

 _Addams!_

 _Morticia, who is already easily startled, startles hugely. She gasps and steps back, eyes wide. She sees who it is. It's Arthur J. Henson, an acquaintance of the Addams Family for the past few years. Morticia and Gomez have a generally positive opinion of him, but Henson absolutely despises them. He can't believe he's seeing what he's seeing, Morticia Addams being intimate with a severely disabled looking stranger in the park._

 **Henson**

 _Mrs. Addams!_

 **Morticia**

 _Mr. Henson!_

 **Henson**

Who's this stranger?!

 **Gomez**

I'm no stranger, Mr. Henson!

 **Henson**

 _Gomez Addams?!_

 **Gomez**

Contrary to rumour, I'm still in one piece!

 **Henson**

My _God_.

 **Morticia**

We do apologize for interrupting your walk, Mr. Henson. Dear Gomez can get a bit carried away when it comes to love and romance. He's a blue-blooded Castillian, after all.

 **Henson**

 _What the devil happened to him?!_

 **Gomez**

Got sick.

 **Henson**

Sick? Is _that_ what you call falling from an airplane these days? Or getting your neck broken by a wild animal? Or just accidentally shooting yourself in the neck? Or, how about taking cyanide instead of your sleeping pills? "Getting sick?"

 **Morticia**

No, Mr Henson. Gomez truly _did_ become sick!

 **Henson**

What _are_ the chances?

 **Gomez**

1 in 100,000.

 **Morticia**

But that's nonsense, darling. _I_ know you're one in a million.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia…_

 **Henson**

I never could have thought an _illness_ would be what did you in, Addams. When did this even happen?

 **Morticia**

Now, Mr Henson, you mustn't pry…

 **Gomez**

Just over two months.

 **Henson**

Two – two months?! Did you have a stroke?! What kind of a/

 **Morticia**

/No, Mr Henson. Mr Addams developed an autoimmune disease.

 **Henson**

Autoimmune d – well – I – wow. Just… wow. Just when you thought you'd seen it all, you see Gomez Addams, in a wheelchair, paralyzed head to toe, a cloth stuffed in his mouth, hooked up to a ventilator, engaging in a public display of affection with his wife in the middle of the local park.

 **Gomez**

A chance like this'll never come again, old man! May as well take a picture.

 **Henson**

Maybe I should. Beesly won't ever believe me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, don't say that. You're a man of honour. Of course Mr. Beesly will believe you.

 **Henson**

On the other hand, you're probably right. He knows not to doubt anything about _your family_ anymore. I suppose your health insurance is with another company?

 **Gomez**

Good heavens, Henson! We paid out of pocket!

 **Morticia**

Naturally.

 **Henson**

 _Naturally_. Of course.

 **Morticia**

Mr Addams' keen business acumen and good fortune has proven tremendously beneficial.

 _Henson rolls his eyes, scarcely able to believe what's going on. He ought to keep quiet on this – his insurance company still handles a lot of Gomez's shares and businesses. Instead, he moves on to a new thought._

 **Henson**

I suppose he's not going to get better, then?

 **Morticia**

 _Mr Henson!_ _Please!_ He's right here! Talk of him as such!

 _Henson leans down to Gomez, and at eye level, he speaks again, reluctantly._

 **Henson**

I… suppose _you're_ not going to get better, then.

 **Gomez** _(very offended)_

Nonsense. Of course I am.

 **Morticia** _(also very offended)_

Whatever would make you say something like that?!

 **Henson**

You just look so… _frail_.

 **Gomez** _(even more offended than before)_

Frail? You take that back.

 **Morticia** _(also even more offended than before, incensed)_

How dare you!

 **Henson**

Please hush, Mrs Addams!

 **Morticia**

I will _not_! My husband is in peak physical condition! He is a healthy weight for a man his height. His transplanted heart is functioning perfectly; the anti-rejection drugs are working flawlessly. His sinuses haven't flared up in weeks. Other than being totally paralyzed, feeding tube and ventilator dependent, my husband is in _impeccable_ health!

 _Henson glowers_. _Morticia sighs, calming herself down. Even when angry, she never actually shouted. She simply states her case with passion and conviction._

 **Gomez** _(to Morticia)_

 _Cara mia_ , you were magnificent!

 **Morticia**

Thank you, darling. You know, it isn't a bit like me, to argue like that. But I became agitated when your honour was threatened like that. Mr Henson is so presumptuous.

 **Henson**

 _I am right here!_

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. What?

 **Henson**

What you're saying is that Mr Addams is seriously going to recover? From _this_?!

 _Henson gestures in Gomez's vague direction._

 **Morticia** _(matter-of-factly)_

He's already begun, Mr Henson. He couldn't move his eyes or head before. _Now_ look at him.

 **Henson** _(dully)_

I'm _floored._

 **Morticia** _(not identifying the sarcasm)_

As you ought to be!

 _Henson, already near his wits' end, changes subject again, with malice._

 **Henson**

And… your _demon_ children are taking this just fine, I assume?

 **Morticia**

Oh, no. Dear little Wednesday and Pugsley have been so worried about him.

 **Gomez**

Breaks my heart to see them like that.

 **Morticia**

They've made him all sorts of presents, the thoughtful little angels. When he first got sick, Wednesday made him his very own cursed pendant! For luck.

 **Gomez**

And Pugsley's put aside a new train especially for me to blow up when I get my hands back. He's a true Addams, got a heart of gold.

 _Henson sighs very loudly._

 **Henson** _(having had enough of them, full of sarcastic distaste)_

Well, I suppose illness can only change so much. I've heard stories, you know, of these sorts of experiences making men _humble_. Giving them a _jolt_ of reality!

 **Morticia**

 _My_ , a jolt. That _does_ sound pleasant.

 **Henson** _(finally not able to take anymore, walking away)_

 _Gaahhhhh_ – _Addams_! You never learn, do you? Go back to kissing him then, Mrs Addams! If he doesn't drop dead in the next ten seconds, that is! I suppose kissing a vegetable doesn't count as a PDA after all, does it?

 _Henson storms off, highly irritated._

 **Morticia**

My, Gomez. He _was_ in a hurry.

 **Gomez**

Must have somewhere to be.

 **Morticia**

Imagine that. Such callous words.

 **Gomez**

I know, querida. Almost let him get to me. But the skin of an Addams is thick.

 **Morticia**

Oh, my dear. You are so inspirational.

 **Gomez**

As are you, Tish. My devoted nurse, day and night.

 **Morticia**

My noble, courageous, handsome patient.

 _She plants a kiss on his hand._

 **Gomez** _(overcome)_

Let's go to the swamp, Tish. It's such a romantic place.

 **Morticia**

Oh, but darling. It would be so hard to push you in there.

 **Gomez**

Get Lurch to carry me. There's a deckchair you could put me on. We could moonbathe… _together_.

 **Morticia**

Gomez… you _wicked romantic_. A moonbath on the thirteenth!

 **Gomez**

I just wish it were a Friday.

 _Morticia smiles._

 **Morticia**

I'll ring Lurch. Come, my darling. Let's relax.

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's cheek again, and plants a small kiss on his head. She returns to the back of the powerchair, and goes to turn Gomez around. However, he spins the powerchair around with the head control before she can do it. She smiles lovingly at him, and then resumes pushing him, back down the way they came. They're going home together for a nice, relaxing moonbath in the swamp._


	22. Day 76

_Due to a mistake in the ordering process, Fester only ordered a few of Gomez's medicines for the next week. He's been without his anti-depressants/mood stabilizer for the past three days, which is proving to be a nightmarish experience for him. However, they'll be back tomorrow. Still, today, he's suffering the culmination of three days off these medications, and Morticia is heartbroken watching him suffer so profoundly. Still, she keeps a calm head as well as she can. She doesn't want to make things even worse for him. This is the worst she's ever seen him since he came home, and the most worried she's been about him since he was literally dying. He controls his depression (which he's struggled with since before they even met) admirably with his medications, yoga and other enriching/fascinating activities (as well as with the dedicated love and care of his wife and family), but there's precious little he can do in this situation but endure it. To add insult to injury, tomorrow is Gomez's birthday._

 _He's lying in bed, his eyes and eyelids twitching a bit. Every few seconds, his whole head will twitch or shake a little as he'll fail to get comfortable in this new position. Morticia sits in a chair beside the bed, trying to soothe her husband's obvious distress._

 **Morticia**

Darling, it'll be here tomorrow. Then we can put an end to this little nightmare.

 _Gomez doesn't seem to even respond, not looking at his computer, just still twitching a bit._

 **Morticia**

I know, this is dreadful. I know. I know.

 _Still nothing from Gomez._

 **Morticia**

At least we still have your pain medication and your anti-rejection tablets?

 _Gomez closes his eyes and it looks as if he's about to start crying. His eyes look watery when he opens them again. She realizes she sort of played the "you may have it bad, but at least _" card, which downplays his suffering instead of focusing on how to support him through it._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, no. Forgive me. Perhaps that was wrong of me to say. You have it hard enough without me making thoughtless comments.

 _Gomez would be crying if he were in any position other than his lying down flat one. Instead, the tears sort of pool in his eyes._

 **Morticia**

Darling, don't cry, it'll ruin your makeup.

 _Gomez blinks some of the tears away, they finally fall. He has a bit of a clearer view of his computer now._

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez, dear.

 **Gomez**

Who was meant to order?

 **Morticia**

Fester, dear. But you know how forgetful he can be. Lurch will take care of the orders from now on.

 **Gomez** _(this coming from a place of pure despair)_

I'm never going to get better.

 **Morticia** _(firmly)_

Now, now. You're just in a depression, Gomez. We both know you don't mean that.

 **Gomez**

I'll never get better, and I'll be a burden in all of your lives forever.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, _please_.

 _Gomez loses vision due to more pooling tears again._

 **Gomez**

Trying so hard...

 **Morticia**

I know, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

And nothing!

 **Morticia**

It may feel like nothing, my dear, but remember how much you've improved. Think on where you were before. How much has changed? A great deal.

 **Gomez**

Barely.

 **Morticia**

Not barely, Gomez. You couldn't even open or close your eyes. Or move your eyeballs and look around. Now, you can look around just like you used to, blink, and even move your head a little.

 **Gomez**

Not enough, my dear. Not enough.

 **Morticia**

I know. It'll never be enough for you until you're back to normal, but I'm noticing little things every day.

 **Gomez**

You are?

 **Morticia**

You looked at me this morning when you woke up. I was already awake, in fact, I think I woke you up. You turned your head to look at my face. It was charming, my dear.

 **Gomez**

...you do have a point.

 **Morticia**

You're just in a depression, Gomez. To the outsider looking in, it's obvious. I know you, and I know how you get.

 **Gomez**

Sometimes better than I know myself.

 **Morticia**

That's very true, _mon cher._

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 _Morticia kisses Gomez's forehead gently._

 **Morticia**

You're going to be so well, so soon.

 _Gomez starts crying again. Harder than before. It's clear that Gomez wouldn't be able to see anything that clearly right now. His typing becomes slower and more laboured, as well as his words becoming shorter._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, _darling…_

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's face and leans down, kissing him again, now upset herself seeing her husband like this._

 **Morticia**

What's wrong?

 **Gomez**

But tomorrow...

 _Morticia sighs and continues to stroke Gomez's cheek, looking deeply into his eyes._

 **Morticia**

I know, I know… it's not what any of us would have wanted.

 **Gomez**

Children.

 **Morticia**

I know it's hard.

 **Gomez** _(so blind, now just typing gibberish and accidentally looking at the enter prompt)_

D9.

 **Morticia** _(finally realizing what's wrong)_

I am sorry. Darling, let me wipe your eyes.

 _Morticia takes the tissue and wipes her husband's tears away._

 _He doesn't even need to say thank you, it's all there in his eyes._

 **Morticia**

The children have been so worried about you.

 **Gomez**

Unjust. Outrageous.

 **Morticia**

Life is unjust, my dear. We both know that.

 **Gomez**

I'm their father!

 **Morticia**

And nothing about this illness is ever going to change that!

 **Gomez**

Be there.

 **Morticia**

You mean, you wish you could be there for them?

 _Gomez blinks._

 **Morticia**

But you _are_ here for them my dear, they come in to visit you all the time. Nothing about this condition has changed your ability to be there for them.

 **Gomez** _(thinking about it)_

Of course, you're right, querida.

 **Morticia**

I know it can be hard to believe, because it is so different to the norm. But you must know that they don't feel like they've lost you. They run up to see you as soon as they get home. They love you.

 **Gomez**

Miss it.

 **Morticia**

What do you miss?

 **Gomez**

Everything.

 **Morticia**

And you'll have everything back soon.

 **Gomez**

Am sorry my dear. Not my usual self.

 **Morticia**

Oh, you have been so strong, and so positive, darling. Of course, it's normal to feel like this. In fact it's more odd that it's taken you this long to have a little depressive moment about it. I doubt you would have even had it, if you hadn't been off your meds.

 **Gomez**

My love…

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher…_

 _Knowing she's spoken French, she leans in and kisses his forehead before he can say anything._

 **Morticia**

Soon, this will be all over. This time next year, we will be celebrating your birthday with you restored to perfect health.

 **Gomez**

You optimist.

 **Morticia**

How could I be anything but optimistic, seeing your progress?

 **Gomez**

And a flatterer.

 **Morticia**

Being with you, I am the most fortunate woman in the world.

 **Gomez**

Even now?

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, Gomez. Now and always.

 **Gomez**

Querida… you are a saint.

 **Morticia**

And you, an angel.

 **Gomez**

I've heard of marriages that have fallen apart due to something like this.

 **Morticia**

Well, darling, you need not fear. I was never a part of any of those marriages.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia… you're right, of course. You're so sensible.

 **Morticia** _(smiling now, stroking her husband's face again)_

Happy birthday, darling.

 **Gomez**

Is it midnight?

 _Gomez sees the time on his computer – it isn't._

 **Gomez**

Cara! It's only nine o'clock!

 **Morticia**

Ah, maybe I am getting a little carried away. But I want to make this the happiest birthday we can give you, given these circumstances.

 **Gomez**

36…

 **Morticia**

And you've only grown more handsome with each passing year.

 **Gomez**

Must have been an ugly baby.

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, darling. Your little moustache made you look so dignified. Now. Gomez. Do you feel a little better?

 **Gomez**

Yes, querida. Thank you.

 **Morticia**

How about a massage?

 **Gomez**

Now you're spoiling me.

 **Morticia**

Don't you want one?

 **Gomez**

Oh, no. Of course I do. But you're still spoiling me.

 **Morticia**

You devil.

 **Gomez**

And you're flattering me.

 **Morticia**

Devils like you deserve to be flattered.

 **Gomez**

What did I do to deserve a wife like you?

 **Morticia**

What did I do to deserve a husband like you?

 **Gomez**

Seems we're perfectly matched.

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 _Morticia sighs, and goes around to the other side of the bed, where she gets comfortable next to Gomez, who has appeared to calm down greatly. He isn't crying anymore, at least. He turns his head to look at her as she gets into the bed beside him, before looking back at the computer._

 **Morticia**

Now, now. Don't strain yourself.

 **Gomez**

You're right. I need to conserve my strength.

 **Morticia**

Exactly, _bubele_ …

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_

 **Morticia**

Ah – now, Gomez… I either kiss you, or give you a massage. So would you like a massage or not? Your neck _could_ do with it.

 **Gomez**

Why not both?

 _Morticia smirks._

 **Morticia** _(still smirking/smiling)_

You lovestruck glutton.

 **Gomez**

How could you blame me when it's you I'm married to?

 **Morticia**

Oh, you Castilians! Very well, then. Anything your heart desires, for being so courageous, so dignified, in the face of such adversity. I'll massage you first, and _then_... we'll see about later…

 _She smiles wickedly and cocks her head, before carefully putting her hands around Gomez's neck, looking to reach the back of his neck, to give the massage. She's careful about where she touches, but once she's arrived in place, she begins. Gomez closes his eyes, feeling the most relaxed he's felt all day._


	23. Day 77

_The lights of the city twinkle down as Morticia and Gomez move through. Morticia pushes Gomez along tentatively. She doesn't want to leave him completely in control, for fear he'll crash himself into something, but she does sometimes let him drive forward a few steps while she looks around to make sure they are in the right place. The Stella is a very fancy and very new theatre that they have never been to, but for Gomez's birthday she's booked them in to see a production of All My Sons, Arthur Miller's suburban tragedy. Morticia tries to navigate with Google Maps through the city whilst also keeping a firm eye on Gomez._

 _She holds the phone at arm's length because even though she's in her thirties, she acts like every mother in their sixties with their first smartphone._

 **Morticia**

It should be a left turn here, darling.

 _As she turns Gomez left, she notices the elevation of the side street they're about to turn onto._

 **Morticia**

Oh my, that _is_ a hill.

 **Gomez**

It does look rather steep, my dear.

 _Morticia stands there thinking to herself._

 **Gomez**

Do you think I'd roll back?

 **Morticia**

No, darling, I don't think so. Your wheels are rubber – they hold firmly. But still, I do worry about you.

 **Gomez**

Well, no matter, my sweet. I'll give it the old Addams try, see what happens!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, dear. I feel it would be safer if I pushed you up myself.

 **Gomez**

But _cara mia_ , I'm quite the behemoth in a contraption like this!

 **Morticia**

A _darling_ behemoth.

 **Gomez**

 _Querida..._

 **Morticia**

Let _me_ try pushing you up. We'll see if it'll work.

 **Gomez**

Very well, my dear. Push away.

 _Morticia rotates Gomez a little, and pushes him up the hilly street to where the theatre is._

 _At first the heaviness seems to get to her, but then she manages to get into her stride, and does successfully manage to wheel him up, even in the bulky powerchair. She is quite physically strong beneath an outwardly elegant exterior. She's got the same strength as Ophelia, who's (to Gomez's dismay) at home, babysitting the children for the night while Fester, Lurch and Grandmama go to the movies. They ascend._

 **Gomez**

I feel as if I am an emperor being paraded through the streets in celebration of my glory.

 **Morticia**

You would make such a _noble_ ruler, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Reminds me of Cousin Sixtus – before he was stabbed in the back.

 **Morticia**

Ah, such a pleasant afternoon's activities.

 _They finally reach the theatre. A group of people stand outside waiting on their friends, or to go in. Morticia wheels Gomez through the door and up to the box office. She leans down and reaches into Gomez's jacket, and removes her and Gomez's tickets from Gomez's front suit pocket. She hands them to the box office manager._

 **Box Office Manager**

What's the name?

 **Gomez**

Addams.

 **Box Office Manager**

Yes. Alright – disabled seating is over there. Just go talk to Max and he'll show you where to go. Did you pay for wine?

 **Morticia**

Yes, I believe it came as part of a "package deal".

 **Box Office Manager**

Of course, yes, alright. You mention the wine to Max and he'll bring it to you before the show starts.

 **Gomez**

Capital!

 **Morticia**

Marvellous.

 _Morticia brings Gomez over to a quiet corner next to the cloakroom. She takes off her glamorous coat and leaves it on the counter of the cloakroom area. Underneath she is wearing her normal black dress, but with fancier earrings, a fancier necklace and long black gloves._

 _She awkwardly then moves around to Gomez, and takes the heavy jacket he's been wearing off him. She does this cumbersomely, gently easing Gomez's top half forward (leaning over) while she stretches out his arm and wiggles the coat off his sleeves. She's eventually joined by a cloakroom worker who notices her predicament._

 **Cloakroom Worker**

Need a hand?

 **Morticia**

Ah, yes. Now, we _do_ have one at home, but he couldn't come tonight, else he could assist us. My poor husband can't take his coat off himself.

 **Cloakroom Worker**

Uh, of course. Like, this is my job.

 _The cloakroom attendant takes Gomez's other arm and, even more clumsily than Morticia, wiggles the sleeve off his arm. Eventually, the two of them manage to get the coat off. The attendant takes the coat into the cloakroom and hangs it next to Morticia's. Meanwhile, Morticia gently eases her husband back into his regular sitting position and places his arms back on the armrests. He is wearing a black tuxedo underneath the coat – one wonders how he got it on in the first place._

 **Cloakroom Worker**

There you are! Suited and booted. House is open.

 _The attendant hands Morticia two tags for the cloakroom, which she places in Gomez's suit jacket pocket where the tickets had been. Then, Morticia wheels Gomez over to Max, who is standing by the theatre entrance._

 **Max**

Mr and Mrs Addams, yes?

 _Gomez is stunned by Max's apparent psychic abilities._

 **Gomez**

How did you know?

 **Max**

You were the only two who booked disabled seating for this performance.

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

The entire section to ourselves, Gomez. How thrilling!

 **Max**

Allow me.

 _Max opens one of the doors and lets Morticia bring Gomez through first, before he goes in himself. He moves in front of them, leading them through the theatre, where everyone is taking their seats and sitting down, preparing for the performance to start._

 **Gomez**

Magnificent building.

 **Morticia**

Stunning cobwebs for such a new theatre.

 **Gomez**

Took us 5 years to achieve cobwebs like that at home!

 **Max**

Ah, they're just decorative.

 **Morticia**

Well, they make charming decorations.

 **Max**

Here we are. May I, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

May you what?

 **Max**

Take your husband.

 **Gomez**

Take me where?

 **Morticia**

Where are you taking him?

 **Max**

To the seating area.

 **Gomez**

Oh, yes. Indeed.

 **Morticia**

Go ahead.

 _Max stands behind Gomez, and pushes him into a slightly raised seating area at the midsection of the theatre. There are some seats in there, but the entire section is empty. Morticia takes a seat beside him and holds his hand. Max secures his powerchair in place and takes a step back._

 **Max**

Just going to get your wine.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Max.

 _Max leaves._

 **Morticia**

Ah, Gomez. An island to ourselves.

 **Gomez**

Our own slice of solitude amidst this storm of activity. Such bliss.

 **Morticia**

And a night of culture awaiting us. _C'est magnifique!_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish_ , that's French!

 **Morticia** _(knowingly)_

Oui, mon cher...

 _She leans in and kisses his forehead._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, you're drooling a little. Do you want me to put in the towel?

 _Gomez just flicks his eyes up to give the affirmative._

 _Morticia takes the rag out, folds it neatly (as small as she can), and then very gently takes Gomez's jaw, eases it even wider open, and wedges the rag inside. Then, once it's in place inside his mouth, she relaxes his jaw. His mouth obviously doesn't close completely due to the rag, but his lips fall back into a resting position around it. She then takes a paper towel from a tissue box that's inside a tote bag that Ophelia gave them (one of the many things on the back of the power chair) and dabs at Gomez's mouth cleaning away the very small amount of drool that was already there._

 **Gomez** _(reflective)_

Funny, how a man can go from an emperor to an infant in the drop of a hat.

 **Morticia**

Now, now, Gomez. Some infants _were_ emperors.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, you're so astute.

 **Morticia**

And drooling or not, you still have your dashing good looks.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, my treasure.

 **Morticia**

Darling...

 **Gomez**

Tish...

 _Morticia leans closer to Gomez, as if about to kiss him on the forehead or even on the lips (if he were in any state for her to do so, that is), but is instead interrupted by Max._

 **Max**

The wine, Mr and Mrs Addams?

 _Morticia breaks away._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Max. You've been very helpful.

 _Max nods and smiles, and walks away, letting them resume their moment._

 _Morticia takes the sponge-on-a-stick that she used to give Gomez the wine before – it's in the tote bag in a Ziploc container._

 **Morticia**

Are you willing to wait until the intermission? I did _just_ put the rag in.

 **Gomez**

Of course, my dear.

 **Morticia**

You're so patient, darling.

 **Gomez**

I'm _your_ patient... _querida_...

 _Morticia smiles at the bad wordplay. In the seat, she gets cosy. She settles in and leans her head on Gomez's shoulder, holding his hand._

 _Then, the theatre lights go down, and the performance begins._

 _We are almost at the end of the play. The towel in Gomez's mouth has been replaced during intermission so that he could get a chance to have a taste of the wine with the sponge-on-a-stick. The play is reaching its dramatic conclusion, where Joe Keller finally hears the letter from his missing-presumed-dead son Larry, condemning him for his less-than-savoury business practices that led to the deaths of 21 pilots in the war._

 _Morticia and Gomez are unable to contain how moved they are by the dramatic ending of the play when Joe walks from the driveway into his house, with his wife and son watching. Of course, Morticia and Gomez, being Addamses, instead of being moved to tears, are unable to contain their laughter._

 **Kate**

What more can we be?

 **Chris**

You can be better! Once and for all you can know there's a universe of people outside and you're responsible to it, and unless you know that, you threw away your son because that's why he died.

 _Morticia clutches Gomez's hand tightly, trying to not laugh loudly in the theatre. To laugh so loudly would distract the audience from the show. However, both seem very confused as to why no one else is finding it funny._

 _The sound effect of the shot being fired rings out, and Gomez has reached breaking point. Despite being paralyzed, he laughs so violently that the drool towel dislodges itself and begins to slip out. Suddenly extremely distracted, he desperately tries to stop it from falling out with his mouth - but, of course, he can't close it, so he can't help it as it slips further and further out of his mouth._

 _Chris and Kate react onstage to the realization that Joe has killed himself, and distracting Gomez again, their shocked expressions (overacted a lot) send him into another hearty belly laugh that dislodges the towel further. As it slips even further out of his mouth, he tries with every ounce of effort he has to catch or stop it. Just by closing his mouth even the littlest bit, his teeth would be able to get a grip on the towel. But alas, no luck._

 _As Chris returns to the stage, and he and Kate share a moment of tears together, Gomez tries again to contain his soundless belly laugh, with no luck. The rag falls more and more forward. With all his concentrated effort, Gomez wills his mouth to close. Eventually, he_ does _actually feel the tiniest impulse - the tiniest response from his jaw. He_ does _actually feel the_ undeniable _sensation of his mouth closing a little bit, but it's too little too late. Finally, gravity overtakes the towel, and it slips out of his mouth and falls down his suit, onto his lap. Gomez is absolutely stunned at what he just felt his mouth do. As Kate comforts the crying Chris onstage, Gomez is left reeling._

 _After the lights come up and the bows begin, Morticia looks at Gomez and notices the rag has fallen._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, when did this happen? I'm sorry.

 _Gomez immediately begins typing._

 **Gomez**

Merely a moment ago, but Tish/

 **Morticia**

/Oh, alright. I'll put it back in, I/

 **Gomez**

/Tish, I moved my mouth.

 _Morticia's eyes go wide._

 **Morticia**

You did?

 **Gomez**

I tried to stop it.

 **Morticia**

You managed to close your mouth trying to stop the towel from falling out?

 **Gomez**

Never have I been so happy to fail, cara mia!

Morticia _(stunned, overjoyed)_

And you're usually more than happy to fail, darling! Gomez, could you try it again?

 _Gomez closes his eyes and concentrates as much as his wired mind can._

 _Eventually Morticia notices Gomez's bottom lip and jaw quiver a little, as his jaw does slightly rise and his mouth does become a little less agape for several seconds, before he lets it fall back into repose. Morticia squeezes her husband's hand._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez, mon cher!_

 **Gomez** _(distracted by the French)_

Tish!

 **Morticia** _(doubling down on the French, beyond happy for both him and for her)_

 _Mon cher..._

 _She kisses his forehead tenderly, and sort of nuzzles her head into his shoulder for a few moments spent in an embrace. When she finally breaks out of it, she's just overcome by joy._

 **Gomez**

Soon I'll be able to kiss you back.

 **Morticia**

 _Oh, Gomez..._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish..._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez..._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish..._

 _As the crowd comes to a standing ovation for the actors, Morticia leans in._

 **Morticia** _(overflowing with love)_

 _Bubeleh..._

 **Gomez** _(overcome with passion)_

Tish... kiss me again.

 _Morticia gently puts her hand under Gomez's chin and eases his mouth closed, before planting a kiss on his lips. Gomez attempts to reciprocate, but all he's able to do is slightly twitch his bottom lip – still, it's something he didn't think he'd be able to do when he woke up that morning. Morticia feels him do this, and her heart flutters._

 **Morticia**

Happy birthday, my darling.


	24. Day 80

**Grandmama**

Now, Gomez. Are you sure this is a good idea?

 **Everybody**

Yes!

 **Dumo**

Why, look how flexible he still is!

 **Fester.**

Are ya sure? Doesn't look it t'me!

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, old man! My physical fitness regime was designed to keep me in shape should anything of this sort ever happen!

 **Dumo**

Indeed. It was custom-designed by myself and Mr Addams, specifically to keep him as youthful, lithe and supple as humanly possible. And I must say, it has paid off exorbitantly.

 **Grandmama**

But he hasn't moved in months!

 **Dumo**

Your point being? All the "preparation work" he's done has kept him as close to peak physical functioning as a man of his condition can get.

 **Lurch**

Approval?

 **Dumo**

Please, Mr Lurch, trust me.

 **Lurch**

Gnnnngh.

 **Dumo**

Now then, shall we begin?

 **Grandmama**

Guess so.

 _Fester, Grandmama, Lurch and Dumo manoeuvre Gomez into a sitting position on the bed. Dumo takes one of his legs, Fester takes the other. Lurch and Grandmama get a firm grip on his back, lifting his butt off the bed a bit. Then, Fester and Dumo tuck his legs into the sukhasana position before gently sitting him back down. Lurch and Dumo hold him in place, sitting up. Grandmama keeps his head held up, so he can see the computer. Fester moves the computer so that Gomez can stay looking at it._

 **Gomez**

Ah, what a thrill!

 **Fester**

Well, glad someone's enjoying it.

 _Morticia comes into the room._

 **Morticia**

Why, look at this little party!

 _Morticia takes a look at Gomez and smiles._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, look at you. So distinguished, doing your zen yogi. Inviting the Grand Guru for a private session _was_ a clever idea.

 **Dumo** (Looking around distastefully at Lurch, Fester and Grandmama)

Indeed. _Private_.

 **Morticia**

Though, it _did_ mean I had to collect the children from school myself.

 **Gomez**

Querida mia, the thought of having inconvenienced you… it crushes my soul.

 **Morticia**

Oh, no, Gomez, never apologize. We all know how you love your zen yogi.

 **Gomez**

 _Tish_ , you're so selfless!

 **Morticia**

Oh, my _darling_ …

 _Morticia goes over to Gomez and kisses his forehead._

 _Grandmama sighs as Morticia steps in her way._

 **Grandmama**

Careful, Morticia! Don't wanna drop his head.

 **Gomez** (thinking to himself on that mental image)

To drop one's head. What a thought!

 _Morticia looks around the room, back to head-caregiver mode._

 **Morticia**

Now – Doctor Harvey will be here any second – is Mr Addams's file ready?

 **Lurch**

In the locker.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful. Mr Dumo, Dr Harvey is a wonderful man! He's helping bring Mr Addams back to the world of movement, just as you are. Do not feel threatened by him, he is far more a colleague than a rival.

 **Dumo**

Hmph.

 _The doorbell rings._

 **Morticia**

Ah, that must be him now. Lurch?

 _Lurch leaves the room, and Morticia follows behind him, to welcome the doctor._

 **Dumo**

Does this Dr Harvey practice zen yogi?

 **Gomez**

You know, I _have_ tried to tell him about it, but he doesn't seem all that convinced. Poor devil must think it's a fraud!

 **Dumo**

It truly is a pity that we are surrounded by so many unenlightened fools unwilling to reach nirvana. When he sees you, perhaps then, he will understand. Look at you. So peaceful. So still.

 **Gomez**

Indeed – if I were any stiller, I'd be a cactus!

 _Dumo just gives Gomez a look._

 **Gomez**

Just a little joke, of course. I'm not nearly sharp enough!

 **Dumo**

Hm. Yes.

 _The door opens, and in comes Dr Harvey with Morticia and Lurch._

 **Lurch**

Dr Harvey.

 **Gomez**

Glad you're here, old man!

 **Harvey**

 _WHAT IS HAPPENING._

 **Gomez**

Ah, just wait 'til you see the headstand!

 **Harvey**

Headstand – I – what – Mr Addams, please, I'm –

 **Morticia**

Oh, do show him, Gomez darling. It's so impressive, so dignified!

 **Gomez**

You heard Mrs Addams!

 _Fester and Grandmama take hold of Gomez again, straightening his legs and laying him back down. Dumo and Lurch stand at either side of the bed, and place a hand each on Gomez's shoulders. Fester and Grandmama place a hand on each of Gomez's legs, ready to lift him up into a headstand at any moment._

 _Harvey yells._

 **Harvey**

No no no no nononononono stop, put him down! Put him DOWN!

 **Fester**

Aw, now, he's not _that_ sick.

 **Morticia**

Why, Dr Harvey!? What seems to be the matter?

 **Harvey**

I – he's – I –

 _Harvey gulps._

 **Harvey**

Just… let me attempt his… _mouth exercises_ before we attempt a… a _headstand_.

 **Dumo**

Well, if you insist…. "doctor".

 **Morticia**

Now, now. Don't be cynical, Mr Dumo. Did you know that Dr Mbogo himself has signed off on Harvey's techniques?

 **Dumo**

Hmph.

 **Harvey**

So, Gomez.

 _Harvey goes to Gomez's bedside and sits beside him._

 **Harvey**

How's the mouth coming along since yesterday?

 **Morticia**

Oh, doctor, it's been wonderful. Show him, dear!

 _Gomez slowly moves his bottom lip a smidge, and brings his mouth to an almost-closed position._

 _Morticia takes a pillow from a pile next to the bed, lifts up her husband's head, and slips the pillow underneath it. This extra elevation leads gravity to close his mouth for him as his head tilts forward ever so slightly._

 _Gomez manages a very stilted and plastic looking smile – aka, the tiniest upward curl of the right side of his mouth, before it falls back into the position it was in before._

 _Harvey looks genuinely impressed._

 **Harvey**

This is really good, Mr Addams. I think I'm confident enough to say that you're recovering faster.

 **Gomez**

I am?

 **Harvey**

The progress is speeding up. Two days ago, you couldn't do any of what you're doing with your mouth now. Only the tiniest twitches. But that? That's undeniably a smile. A little one, yes, but it still has only been two days. Think what you might be able to do in two more days?

 **Gomez**

Smiling with teeth!

 **Grandmama**

Oh, I hope so. You know, when Gomez was a teenager, he had braces for nearly five years? God forbid, I want my money's worth. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to the playroom. I need a good long session on the rack.

 **Fester** (Glaring at Harvey for ruining their yogi fun)

I think I'll join ya… if we're not gonna be needed like we thought we were.

 **Morticia**

Very well.

 _Grandmama and Fester turn to leave. Fester eyes Dumo and Lurch in the doorway._

 _Lurch looks at Morticia._

 **Morticia**

You may join them, Lurch, dear. You have worked hard today and you've earned a good rest.

 _Lurch groans and follows them._

 _Dumo doesn't move. Instead, he sits in the corner watching Harvey do the actual physiotherapy – the range of motion steps. He watches Harvey flexing Gomez's arm joint by joint, usually upwards of ten times each._

 **Dumo**

You do know, Mr Addams would _much_ prefer to do this upside down.

 **Gomez**

Right you are, old sport, but I'm afraid that might be a little difficult.

 **Dumo**

Nonsense, I could have you suspended from the ceiling in less than a minute.

 **Morticia** (enraptured by the thought)

Oh, yes, he _would_ love that. Wouldn't you, dear?

 **Gomez**

The feeling of the blood rushing to your head after a long day… ah, how I miss it.

 **Morticia**

You don't think that you could at least try it, Doctor?

 **Harvey**

For Pete's sake, no, Mrs Addams! Listen. Mr…

 **Dumo**

Mr Dashi Dumo, Grand Guru of the zen yogi society.

 _An explosion is heard from downstairs._

 **Harvey**

What was that?

 **Gomez**

That'll be good old Fester! Never hesitates to break out the old dynamite after a long day.

 _Dumo glares at Harvey as the vibrations from the explosion fizzle out._

 **Dumo**

 _I_ … must be going, Addams. I have a meditation to lead.

 **Gomez**

Ah, that's a shame, but we shouldn't keep you any longer. Wouldn't be right.

 **Morticia**

Of course not, you're such a busy man.

 **Dumo**

I do take my duties seriously.

 _Dumo gets up to leave, and as he is about to exit through the door, Morticia stops him._

 **Morticia**

Aren't you going to say goodbye to Dr Harvey?

 **Dumo**

Hmph. Yes. Of course… goodbye, "Doctor" Harvey.

 **Harvey**

Goodbye… "Grand Guru Dumo".

 _Dumo leaves, closing the door rather definitively._

 **Morticia**

My dear, he _did_ seem a bit put out.

 **Harvey**

You _must_ promise _never_ to attempt to manoeuvre Mr Addams upside down - or into _any "_ zen yogi" position - without _at the very least_ asking me first. Yes?

 **Gomez**

Great Scott, old man! Where's the fun in that?

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez_! We must listen to what the doctor says.

 **Gomez** (would shrug if he could)

Fair point.


	25. Day 83

_Fester absentmindedly goes into the master bedroom, holding an armful of essential oil bottles. He trots in, and sees Gomez, lying inert, except for with a cigar in his mouth. He looks like he is concentrating intensely hard. Fester raises an eyebrow (or, where his eyebrow would be if he had any!)_

 **Fester**

Gomez!

 **Gomez**

Yes?

 **Fester**

Aw, but I don't think you oughtta be smoking right now. Ya can't breathe, remember?

 **Gomez**

Uncle Fester! This is part of my new regime.

 **Fester**

You're on a regime?

 **Gomez**

Of course! My fitness regime.

 **Fester**

You're on a _fitness_ regime?

 **Gomez**

Every convalescent must have his own fitness regime, Fester – speeds up the recovery process!

 **Fester**

But… have times truly changed? Cause I always thought fitness included _exercise_ , Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Fester. This isn't _exercise_ – this is self-actualization. Physical empowerment. Wellness enhancement.

 **Fester**

What's a man like you to be… _enhancing_? Ya gotta be physical to be physically empowered, right?! Gee, I think the medicine's finally gotten to your head. Such a shame, such a _terrible_ shame…

 **Gomez**

 _My mouth_ , Fester!

 **Fester**

What about it? Ya got a big one for a man who can't talk.

 **Gomez**

I'm using it to hold my cigar!

 **Fester**

Oh.

 **Gomez**

And I'm not doing half-bad for a beginner!

 **Fester**

Well, how long have ya kept it held up?

 _An alarm goes off on the computer._

 **Gomez**

 _Exactly_ five minutes!

 **Fester**

Gee, Gomez, I'm staggered.

 **Gomez**

Oh, come now, don't be a spoilsport!

 **Fester**

Lemme know when ya manage fifty-five minutes, and I'll be back, meanwhile I got stuff to do.

 **Gomez**

Got a busy night ahead?

 **Fester**

Not much. Gotta get rid of all the essential oils Grandmama bought, she can't stop buying 'em.

 **Gomez**

You should empty them into the swamp and save those bottles. Could be useful some day.

 **Fester**

Empty 'em into the swamp? Ya really are losin' it. I just drink 'em and have it done with.

 **Gomez**

Hm. That's an interesting thought.

 **Fester**

Shame, shame…

 _Fester shakes his head and leaves the room. As he opens the door, Morticia passes him coming down the hallway. Fester leaves the door open for her. As she passes him, Fester spins his finger around his temple and mouths "he's losing it". Morticia silently tuts, and shakes her head._

 _Back in the room, meanwhile, and feeling the tiniest bit discouraged after what Fester said, perhaps paying more attention to Fester's words than to the task at hand, Gomez finally gets too tired to keep going. He drops the cigar out of his mouth and it rolls down his chest._

 _A few moments later, Morticia walks in, sees the cigar on her husband's chest, and sighs._

 **Morticia**

Darling, you're so diligent.

 **Gomez**

Tish! Five minutes and fifty one seconds!

 **Morticia**

My, that's just ten seconds off your record, _bubeleh._

 _Morticia kisses her husband's forehead on instinct._

 **Gomez**

Tish! _Bubeleh_ – that word… I must _shower_ you with kisses!

 _Morticia stretches out her arm, holding it right up to Gomez's mouth. She moves her arm across his mouth, very slowly, letting him kiss it as she moves it (or at least, allowing him to give her his attempts at a kiss). What he's doing still barely qualifies but it makes them both happy._

 **Morticia**

You Castilians…

 **Gomez**

I would be nothing without you, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

Darling….

 _Morticia picks up the cigar._

 **Morticia**

Would you like to try again?

 **Gomez**

Of course, my pet.

 **Morticia**

As you wish, dear.

 _She lifts the cigar and puts it back in his mouth._

 **Gomez**

I refuse to stop until I get to 10!

 **Morticia**

And get to 10 you will, Gomez, dear.

 _Gomez has a realization – everything about not stopping until he reached ten minutes goes out the window, his mind moving quickly to this new thought._

 **Gomez**

Wait!

 **Morticia**

Yes?

 **Gomez**

It's seven o'clock.

 _Morticia initially doesn't understand the significance, but when Gomez slightly shifts his head to the side, and stares directly at the wine cabinet, Morticia realizes immediately._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, do you think we should?

 **Gomez**

Ever since that ingenious idea of yours to use your Strangler's sponge…

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, it was nothing.

 **Gomez**

On the contrary, my dear. It was divine.

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_ I'll get the wine. You relax.

 **Gomez**

I'll try, querida.

 _Gomez quickly flicks his eyes and head up a tiny bit, to signify to her that he isn't finished speaking, and keeps typing._

 **Gomez**

But Tish, sometimes I feel it's impossible to relax! Not when all I want is to _leap out of bed_ and _explode_ \- into a _passionate frenzy of affection!_

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez, you dear, beautiful soul – you _are_ a poet. I'll fetch the wine, you turn on Skype. Our International Wine Tasting Club _has_ been missing us, haven't they?

 **Gomez**

Indeed, my dear, I believe they have. And _I_ have missed your cuddles.

 **Morticia**

But dear, it's been less than a day!

 **Gomez**

Exactly, _cara_.

 **Morticia**

Oh, my poor darling.

 _Gomez manages a tiny upturned smile as she caresses the side of his face._

 **Morticia**

Just a moment, my love.

 _She glides over to the wine cabinet, one of many extremely extra things they have in their room. She opens a nearby box, and Thing appears from it, holding the sponge-on-a-stick. She takes it gratefully._

 **Morticia**

Why thank you, Thing!

 **Gomez**

That's Thing for you. Always there to lend a hand.

 _Morticia brings the bottle over, along with the sponge, as Gomez loads up the Skype app on his computer. Morticia puts the wine bottle and the stick on the bedside table. Then, she slowly undresses into her silken nightdress._

 **Gomez**

You look simply ravishing, my dear.

 **Morticia**

And you, breathtakingly handsome.

 _She slides into the bed beside her husband._

 **Gomez**

Even as an invalid?

 **Morticia** (wanting to dispel this thought from his head immediately)

Hush, Gomez. You retain both your inner and outer beauty so masterfully, even now.

 **Gomez**

I've got _you_ to thank for the outer beauty, my dear! You've always understood every nook and every cranny of my 15-step personal grooming regimen. Funny - sometimes I think you understand it better than I do. By George, I'd have a beard by now if it weren't for your expert knowledge!

 **Morticia**

Oh, it's nothing, Gomez. Why… you could have your entire body destroyed, be simply a brain in a jar, and you would still be as attractive, as sweet, kind, generous, noble… your soul is the strongest, most beautiful soul there is.

 **Gomez**

A brain in a jar… that's a thought!

 **Morticia**

But, let's not get ourselves carried away thinking about the future when you are still just as handsome now. Only _you_ could make pyjamas look so becoming, dear.

 **Gomez** (blushing, doing his barely-a-smile)

Mama _did_ always say I wore them well.

 **Morticia** (knowingly)

And a mother's intuition is always right, dear Gomez.

 _A beat, as Skype continues to load, and Morticia pours herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the bedside table._

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 **Morticia**

Yes?

 **Gomez**

Take my hand.

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, of course. Just let me get the wine ready for you.

 _Morticia takes the cigar out of her husband's mouth, and sets it on the bedside table too. Then, she soaks the sponge on a stick in wine and very carefully slots it into Gomez's mouth._

 **Morticia**

Can you taste it, dear?

 **Gomez**

Querida, it's exquisite!

 **Morticia**

Not as exquisite as you, noble Gomez.

 **Gomez**

You flatter me, cara mia…

 **Morticia**

Of course I do, _bubeleh_ …

 _She takes her husband's hand, and kisses him on the cheek, cuddling up to him as the Skype window finally opens, and they can begin to go online and partake in their International Couples Wine-Tasting Club._


	26. Day 89

_Festeris with Gomez in the master bedroom. Gomez is propped up, into a sitting-up position in the bed. Fester is standing by his side, and yelling at him. He has a whistle around his neck, even though he isn't even using it. He is trying to get Gomez to swallow ever since he's been able to move his mouth more. Gomez is trying, and succeeding – some of the time. He's gulping, gulping and gulping until he can't possibly exert any more energy._

 **Fester**

Again!

 _Gomez tries swallowing over and over once again. He's more tired this time._

 **Fester**

Again!

 _And he tries even harder, yet again. He's pushing himself harder, and can barely do anything now with how fast he's exerting all his energy._

 **Fester**

Again, Gomez, if ya know what's good for ya!

 _Gomez is clearly very tired by now and not really able to do anything visible or noteworthy._

 **Fester**

Top speed!

 _Fester gets annoyed at Gomez's perceived "slacking"._

 **Fester**

FASTER, GOMEZ!

 _Gomez tries again, and just coughs, choking on air. He obviously has a lot of problems swallowing, still._

 **Fester**

Aw, shoot.

 _As Gomez coughs, Morticia hears this from another room, and rushes in._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? Oh, Gomez!

 _Morticia brushes past Fester, stands next to Gomez and lifts him into a sit with Fester's instinctual help._

 _Morticia performs a quick cough assist, something Harvey taught her to do._

 _The cough assist is successful, but Gomez's eyeliner starts to run, with his eyes watering._

 **Morticia**

Oh dear, we'll have to fix that.

 **Fester**

Morticia, I swear, I was only testing him.

 _Morticia gently lifts Gomez back into the sitting-in-bed position he was in before. She puts his head on the pillow and puts a hand on his belly._

 **Morticia**

That's quite alright, Fester. Dr Harvey did say we ought to exercise him. Dear Gomez, are you alright?

 _Gomez nods. Morticia wipes his eyes and centres him to be able to see his computer properly again._

 **Gomez**

Querida mia…

 **Morticia**

Ssssh, don't strain your eyes too, darling.

 **Gomez**

My dear, I didn't mean to scare you!

 **Morticia**

You're quite alright. I do quite appreciate a good scare once in a while.

 _She takes a seat next to him, in a chair beside the bed, and looks at Fester._

 **Morticia**

So, Fester. Before all the commotion, how did he do?

 **Fester**

Well, he was doing a lousy job, and it only got lousier.

 **Morticia**

Any progress?

 **Fester**

Not a bit! I told him "top speed" and he gave me some meagre little gulps.

 **Morticia**

Well, Fester, it's much better than nothing at all.

 **Fester**

Not if he's still choking on his saliva it's not!

 **Morticia**

It's only been a few days! We ought not to expect dear Gomez to be perfectly able to swallow again overnight.

 **Fester**

If werewolves can transform overnight, so can Gomez!

 **Morticia**

But Fester, Gomez isn't a werewolf.

 **Fester**

He's not?

 **Gomez**

I wish, old man.

 **Fester**

Oh. I thought, y'know, with all the hair, that… never mind.

 **Morticia**

But Fester please – don't go overboard with poor Gomez. He'll learn again in his own time. If he chokes and no one is there to help him… I can't even imagine how catastrophic the results could be.

 **Gomez**

I could be a brain in a jar sooner than either of us had planned.

 **Morticia**

And you're far too dashing for that to happen so soon.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia…

 _There is a knock on the door._

 **Gomez**

Come in!

 _It's Pugsley._

 **Pugsley**

Hello mother. Hello father. Hello Uncle Fester.

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, my boy! What brings you here?

 **Pugsley**

A letter for you both.

 **Fester**

And nothing for Fester, same old, same old/

 **Morticia**

/Oh? From whom? Mail doesn't usually come so late. Or so physical.

 **Pugsley**

Mrs Park.

 **Morticia**

From Mrs Park? Well, this is a surprise. A personal correspondence from our son's own teacher.

 **Fester** _(dully)_

What an honour.

 _Morticia opens it, and begins to read._

 **Gomez**

What is it, my dear?

 **Morticia**

"Dear Mr and Mrs Addams – this is to remind you that on Friday the 7th, there will be a parent-teacher conference in the school hall to discuss your child's progress over the school year so far. Both parents are encouraged to attend. The meeting will begin at eight o'clock and will not take more than an hour. Test results, behaviour reports and general comments will be shared, as well as study plans for the next few weeks. Yours sincerely, Mrs Park."

 **Gomez**

A personal invitation. _Cara mia!_ Should I go?

 **Morticia**

Well, what do you want, darling?

 **Gomez**

He _is_ my son!

 **Morticia**

That is true, dear.

 **Gomez**

And I must know if the school's taken us up our curriculum reform ideas!

 **Morticia**

Advanced Explosive Technique _was_ such a well-drawn out lesson plan, darling.

 **Gomez**

And don't forget Pet Day!

 **Morticia**

Oh, I _do_ hope they've kept it up!

 **Gomez**

Bringing Aristotle to show to the class was a genius idea, my boy!

 **Morticia**

He _truly does love_ his animals, doesn't he?

 **Gomez**

A blue-blooded Addams!

 **Morticia**

Do they still do Pet Day, Pugsley?

 **Pugsley**

What's an "indefinite hiatus"?

 **Gomez**

Hm. I don't know!

 **Morticia**

Must be a technical term.

 **Gomez**

Novel.

 **Morticia**

Darling, I think it would be a good idea for you to go with me to the meeting. It's important you show the world your inner strength and integrity. You are the picture of nobility.

 **Gomez**

You're a true poet, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

And you, a knight in shining armor.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Fester**

Okay, okay, too much! I'm gonna go wash out my eyes.

 **Morticia**

Oh Fester, I'm sorry but we're out of bleach.

 **Fester**

Typical! Bad to worse. Bad to worse. Guess I'll have to use mouthwash. The indignity!

 _Uncle Fester grunts off._

 **Morticia**

Dear, he is in a mood. Pugsley darling, do you have any homework to do?

 **Pugsley**

I'm procrastinating!

 **Gomez**

Attaboy!

 **Morticia**

You go and procrastinate with Aristotle, Pugsley dear.

 **Gomez**

Poor little creature's probably missing you!

 **Pugsley**

Alright mother, alright father. He does get very lonely.

 _Pugsley runs along, calling "Aristotle, I'm on my way! Don't panic!" Morticia looks back at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Dear… you Addams men are so caring.

 _Morticia looks at herself in the mirror._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling. How hard _did_ Uncle Fester push you?

 **Gomez**

I don't know, but I certainly managed _something_.

 **Morticia**

You think you managed to swallow properly?

 **Gomez**

I think I must have.

 **Morticia**

Harvey said as much – the reflex should be back for good soon. My dear, are you looking forward to being able to drink and dine with us once more?

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia,_ the thought is heavenly!

 **Morticia**

And the dinner that Lurch and I shall prepare will be just as heavenly… slug paté and fish eye stew.

 **Gomez**

Tish, it sounds delectable.

 **Morticia**

Impressive, considering it hasn't been made yet.

 **Gomez**

I have no doubt it will be your masterpiece!

 **Morticia** _(flattered)_

A masterpiece! Oh, _darling…_

 **Gomez**

The thought alone will make me salivate if I ponder it too deeply!

 **Morticia**

 _You_ are the poet, my dear.

 _They kiss._


	27. Rare Disease Day 2019!

AN:

Hiyo, sorry about the slowness of updates here. I've got several jobs, on top of being in the final term of my senior year of university, and needing to complete all my final assignments.

It's annoying for y'all I'm aware, simply cause I've gotten some really positive feedback over the last couple of chapters and I'm really, really grateful for that - you have no idea.

Anyway, I thought I ought to at least acknowledge that today is Rare Disease Day 2019 - if you will recall, RDD 2018 is what inspired this fic in the first place. I'm going to make sure to churn something out before the end of the week in honour of RDD 2019 and just to hopefully get back into the swing of things. I am extremely open to the feedback of readers, and if you would like me to write something in, I would be beyond happy to.

Now, go listen to "All At Once" by Bear Ghost and tell me that it's not the perfect summation of Gomez's taste in music...

MORTICIA

Gomez, darling. This music again?

GOMEZ

I know how you feel about it, Tish, but it just speaks to me!

MORTICIA

I do suppose taste _is_ subjective.

FESTER (from another room)

Except yours, Gomez!

MORTICIA

Oh dear.


	28. Day 96

**AN:** Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorrysorrysorrysorry I've just been SNOWED UNDER with college work. And out-of-college work. And freelance work. And job interviews for other work. Basically lots of work. Womp womp. Anywho, to reward your patience, have this chapter I wrote ages ago and cleaned up tonight. Thank you so much for your patience!

 _Mrs Park is seated in her empty classroom looking incredibly tense. Considering Pugsley's last name is an A surname, the first parent-teacher meeting is with Pugsley's parents, who according to her records are Morticia and Gomez Addams. Having heard rumours, she's not entirely looking forward to this meeting. Especially_ _considering the rumour about the gigantic seven foot tall man who chaperones Pugsley and Wednesday to the bus stop to be collected._

 _She shifts in her seat as she hears a knock on the door._

 **Mrs Park**

Come in!

 _The door opens and Morticia, a striking woman dressed all in black comes in._

 **Mrs Park**

Ah! You must be Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

One moment please, Mrs Park.

 _Morticia keeps the door held open and Gomez zooms on through in the powerchair. His swallowing mechanism has vastly, vastly (vastly) improved in the days since receiving the invitation to the meeting. This progress comes due to extensive therapy on the behalf of Dr Harvey, and, to a lesser degree, Fester. There is a detachable cup-holder secured to the back of the chair that curves around it. There's a large soda inside of it, positioned in such a way that the straw is situated in Gomez's mouth - so that he can take a sip whenever he so chooses. It looks goofy._

 _Taken aback by everything she's just seen, Mrs Park just stares, before falling back down to earth when Morticia takes her seat opposite the teachers' desk. Gomez drives the powerchair into place beside her._

 **Morticia**

Now. Since that's all settled…

 _Morticia takes Gomez's hand, and they both stare invitingly, waiting for her to start._

 **Morticia**

Mrs Park. What a pleasure it is to finally speak with you in the flesh!

 **Gomez**

Only managed to catch you in passing at the information evening!

 **Morticia**

We did so want to ask about our dear Pugsley's progress then, but you were just so preoccupied, what with all the other parents.

 **Gomez**

We suppose you got to everybody _but_ us!

 **Morticia**

But that's no matter now, of course. We're here and ready for you to tell us all about how our boy's doing – are his creative talents being nurtured?

 **Mrs Park** (shushing them, all of a sudden)

Wait, wait, wait! Ah – that explains it!

 _Mrs Park gestures wildly, a wave of relief hitting her._

 **Mrs Park**

Ah. I'm sorry - you don't understand.

 **Gomez**

We certainly don't!

 **Morticia**

Is something wrong?

 **Mrs Park**

No, just – alright – admittedly, I _was_ concerned.

 **Gomez**

Concerned?

 **Mrs Park**

Yes. Concerned about your son. But, _now_ , well… suffice it to say that my fears were… _unfounded_.

 **Morticia**

Good heavens! I must know what you were concerned about.

 **Mrs Park**

Alright, so…

 _Mrs Park points at Gomez._

 **Mrs Park**

You're his father.

 **Morticia**

I should hope that was obvious from the sheer beauty of their souls!

 _Gomez flicks up his eyebrows and gazes the cursor on his computer to say "querida" which is one of his 10 most used words. Because of this, he has a speed-dial esque constant access to it on his home screen. Despite hovering over it, he doesn't select it to be spoken aloud. Morticia coyly smiles briefly before mouthing "later, Gomez!" with a raised eyebrow of her own._

 **Mrs Park** (trying to redirect their attention)

Alright! So! You're his father! Yes?

 **Gomez**

Yes I am, couldn't be prouder of it!

 **Mrs Park**

So – okay, he's been doing some assignments lately in class that, well, had me somewhat concerned for your safety.

 **Gomez** (excited)

He has?

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's hand, looking into his eyes, sharing his excitement._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez! How thrilling!

 _Morticia turns back to Mrs Park._

 **Morticia**

Do tell us more!

 _Mrs Park stares._

 **Mrs Park**

Um… okay, so…

 _Mrs Park composes herself again, very weirded out by the duo._

 **Mrs Park**

We have an exercise in class, where students draw their weekends. Every time Pugsley hands his in, he would always hand up a drawing featuring you - his family.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how touching.

 **Mrs Park**

And he drew _this_ about two weeks ago.

 _She holds up the picture Pugsley drew. Morticia is holding a bottle in the drawing with a skull and crossbones on it. Fester is pictured holding a mace. Gomez is next to them. The entire picture is labelled "poison", "mace", etc. On the drawing of Gomez, the label reads simply "father". The powerchair and medical equipment is extremely well drawn._

 _Morticia and Gomez react with delight to the image, the very opposite of what Mrs Park had expected._

 **Gomez**

Great Scott, Tish, he's inherited your artistic genius!

 **Morticia**

The detailing on the tracheotomy cuff is astounding for a child his age.

 **Mrs Park**

Now… since I did briefly see you at the PTA meeting several months ago, where you, Mr Addams, were, can I say, no offense, not…. _like this_ … I was unaware that… _something/_

 **Gomez** (beaming)

/A severe and life-threatening neurological autoimmune disease!/

 **Mrs Park**

/Okay, _that_ – had happened to you and so, your son being your son, I had… assumed that he, perhaps…

 _Morticia and Gomez both nod enthusiastically, wanting her to continue._

 **Morticia**

Do go on, Mrs Park.

 **Mrs Park**

 _…intended_ to do this to you.

 _Morticia and Gomez process this and look at each other._

 _There is a tense silence. Mrs Park doesn't quite know what to do or say._

 **Morticia**

Oh my.

 **Mrs Park**

I'm sorry if my assumption offended you, or/

 **Morticia**

/what a lovely compliment, Mrs Park! But Pugsley is still too young to learn about the administration of neurotoxins!

 **Mrs Park** (frazzled)

Ah.

 **Morticia**

But it truly _is_ charming of you to even think to share that with Gomez and I/

 _Mrs Park is now eager to forget this conversation ever happened._

 **Mrs Park**

/Weeelllllll… moving on to math…

\- - - - **After the meeting is over - - - -**

 _Morticia and Gomez have finished the meeting, and are now outside the school. Everyone keeps their distance from them._

 **Morticia**

How very inconsiderate of them to stare at us like that, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Just because a man needs a little extra help to get around…

 _Morticia and Gomez continue down the path, out of the school, Grandmama's pet alligator following them._

 **Morticia**

Though, it is a breath of fresh air to have Grandmama's alligator stretch his legs outside of the swamp every once in a while.

 _They continue down the street._

 **Gomez**

Capital idea to let Lurch and Thing run off to the movies this afternoon, Tish!

 **Morticia**

Those poor, overworked dears. They deserve a rest!

 **Gomez**

And Tish, look at all these kind-hearted folks who've been crossing the street to let me fit on the footpath!

 _Someone else crosses the street. It's because of the alligator._

 **Gomez**

Ah – there's another. Thank you, kind stranger!

 _Gomez takes a loud sip of the soda._

 **Morticia**

Are you nearly finished, darling?

 **Gomez**

Must be close to halfway by now, querida mia. Carbonated nettles sure pack a punch. Tell Grandmama to whip up another batch!

 **Morticia**

Wonderful, my dear. I'm so glad you enjoyed my nettles. I had such fun growing them. How are you finding swallowing it?

 **Gomez**

Getting easier with each passing second, cara!

 **Morticia**

Your recovery is snowballing at a breath-taking pace!

 **Gomez**

Tish, you're right! Except! As of now, my breath remains taken!

 **Morticia**

Such delightful wordplay, my dear. Though, with the inner strength and conviction you have displayed, I have no doubt those words will soon be things of the past, and I can hear your own darling voice again - over that of American Male 4.

 **Gomez**

Ah, American Male 4 - old boy, you've been a credit! But I won't be sad to see you out of commission!

 **Morticia**

I do so miss that glorious speaking voice of yours.

 **Gomez**

And I do so miss speaking with it.

 **Morticia**

It is only a matter of time, my dear, only a matter of time – now – what shall we buy Pugsley to congratulate him on his excellent report? Missing out on the honor roll again! He ought to be so proud!

 **Gomez**

Every day, proving he's a blue blooded Addams man. Look at those grades! Such stunning mediocrity!

 **Morticia**

And so humble. He reminds me of you. Such genius. Such dignity. Such inner beauty. Such nobility!

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, he reminds _me_ of _you_! Such poise, such intuition, such mastery of all he puts his mind to – and such fashion sense!

 **Morticia**

Well, I do pick all his shirts.

 **Gomez**

That explains it.

 _The duo continue on down the street, back to the house._


	29. Day 101

_Gomez is in his bed, in the middle of a physio session with Dr. Harvey. Harvey is getting very frustrated with Gomez's apparent lack of progress and tries desperately to ascertain how much movement he's actually capable of. He doesn't want to have Gomez be stuck this way forever, and is trying to motivate him to move parts of his body that are still barely responsive, or even completely unresponsive._

 **Harvey**

Is this alright, Mr. Addams?

 _Harvey is holding Gomez's wrist. His hand is suspended, flopping loosely downwards with the effect of gravity influencing it._

 **Gomez**

Marvellous, Harvey!

 _Harvey plops Gomez's hand on a new, thickly built keyboard that's attached with a USB to his computer._

 **Harvey**

Alright, so, Gomez. We're going to see if you can type something for us! Can you press one of the buttons?

 _Gomez seems a bit daunted by the brash command. He doesn't know if he can press an individual button yet._

 **Gomez**

I suppose I'll give it the old college try, my boy.

 _Gomez gives it a go. He manages to very jerkily, sloppily and rather pathetically press a bunch of the buttons at once by attempting to move his hand along the keyboard. What happens is his hand doing a miniscule dragging motion across the keys, mashing a few of the buttons and typing gibberish._

 _The screen reads: gjgkhjl._

 **Harvey**

I mean it is gibberish, but good job.

 _Gomez furiously deletes the gibberish with his eyes._

 **Gomez**

Gibberish? That's Cousin Slime's middle name!

 **Harvey**

In any case, Gomez. I know this is going to seem bizarre to you. But let's… maybe… turn off the eye tracking device.

 **Gomez**

Turn it off?

 **Harvey**

Well, how about it? See if you can type for us?

 **Gomez**

Are you sure?

 **Harvey**

I think it'd behove you to try it. Listen Gomez, I'm sort of playing bad cop here. We had to do this sooner or later. Let's just try a more, if you'll forgive the pun, hands-on approach.

 **Gomez**

Listen, old man. I can't move my fingers at all!

 **Harvey**

You just moved them when you typed your cousin's middle name!

 **Gomez**

I thought that was my hand, Harvey! My fingers just dragged behind, like an unmanned cart pulled violently by a thrashing horse!

 **Harvey**

Gomez. Listen to me. Let me drop some tough love here.

 **Gomez**

Alright. If you must.

 **Harvey**

Look at yourself.

 **Gomez**

I can't, the screen's on!

 **Harvey**

Okay, then imagine how you look right now. Is that how you want your future to be? You want to be unable to speak and reliant on this eye tracker for the rest of your life? You want to be talking to your wife and kids with a computer voice from now on? Because if you rely too heavily on it now, you'll never want to bust out of the comfort zone you're in. You'll never even try moving your hands. You'll never try anything. You'll be stuck, Gomez. You'll be stuck a mute, ventilator dependent, tube-fed quadriplegic. And you don't have to be. You could be walking. Talking. Eating. Breathing! But you need to take a leap of faith. So, Mr. Addams, I'm going to have no more of this.

 _Harvey turns off the eye tracking camera on top of the computer, and gives Gomez a stern look. Gomez looks visibly stunned at Harvey's berating, almost thinking "what did I do?"._

 **Harvey**

Now, just type anything, anything you wanna say. Take as long as you need.

 _Gomez looks at his own hand, still just limp on the keyboard._

 **Harvey**

Take your time. I won't rush it.

 _Gomez drags his limp hand about half an inch across the keyboard. In doing this, he inadvertently manages to mash a couple of buttons with four of his fingers that are flopping limply around in a clump._

 _He types: IKMKJYUTI_

 _Harvey sighs, and turns the eye tracking back on. His tactic both didn't work, and now something else, something larger, troubles him._

 **Harvey**

Okay, so maybe a new approach is necessary.

 **Gomez**

You might be right.

 **Harvey**

How about this?

 _Harvey lifts Gomez's arm up again. He slowly positions Gomez's fingers into a pointed, button-pressing position._

 **Harvey**

I'm just gonna move your hand over a key, and all you have to do is press down on it. Not your whole hand, just a finger, okay? One little finger movement, Gomez. You understand?

 **Gomez**

Say no more!

 _Harvey lifts the finger over a key on the keyboard, the space bar. Gomez does manage to weakly press the button._

 **Gomez**

By George, I did it!

 _Harvey nods, taking stock of this success._

 **Harvey**

It's a step.

 **Gomez**

Harvey, old boy, you're a miracle worker! Yesterday, I wouldn't even have dreamed I'd be pushing buttons again so soon!

 **Harvey**

No, no, Gomez. Listen, okay? I'm a bit concerned, actually. Something seems... off.

 _Gomez's eyes go wide._

 **Gomez**

Something wrong?

 _Harvey turns to look at Gomez again and folds his arms._

 **Harvey**

Well, it's been months now, and/

 _Harvey notices a little trickle of drool coming from each side of Gomez's slightly open (but not agape and slack jawed like before) mouth. Harvey sees this and it feels like a total defeat. His entire heart seems to sink._

 **Harvey**

One moment, let me get your drool for you.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, sir.

 **Harvey**

I'm not going to mince words. It's rare for someone to recover this slowly, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

It is?

 **Harvey**

GBS is fairly all-or-nothing. Either the patient regains everything or nearly everything, or they plateau with the tiniest amount of movement, and never get any better.

 **Gomez**

You don't think I'm...

 _But Gomez does not finish the sentence._

 **Harvey**

/I can't be sure, Gomez. I know you must be terribly worried that... _this_ might be your life.

 **Gomez**

I must admit, I have been somewhat preoccupied with the thought lately.

 **Harvey**

It is absolutely not ideal. It must be very tough to be optimistic.

 **Gomez**

Ah, but I have that momentous Addams fighting spirit, my boy!

 **Harvey**

But you're not a superhuman.

 _Gomez very weakly tries to use his arms to gesture to himself. He very weakly manages to lift them both millimetres and make a weak jerking motion with them, but his hands just sort of flop when he tries to use them to gesture to himself. Harvey gets what he means, though._

 **Gomez**

Very clearly not.

 **Harvey**

There will be moments, Gomez, moments you will want to be well for. Surely you feel somewhat embarrassed about all of us fussing over you at all times?

 **Gomez**

Well, I suppose it can be rather inconvenient to be unable to scratch my itches. But on the other hand, I _am_ flattered.

 **Harvey**

You're flattered?

 **Gomez**

By George, Harvey. Of course I am! Why, this care is second to none.

 **Harvey**

Having near strangers prop you up every morning to cough for you manually is flattering? Having near strangers pump pureed food into a tube to feed you is flattering?

 **Gomez**

Well, when you put it that way…

 **Harvey**

Having near strangers watching you 24/7 to make sure your breathing machine keeps you breathing is flattering, is it, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

It's necessary.

 **Harvey**

Having your own wife and children wipe and suction your drool for you is flattering?

 **Gomez**

Harvey, we're getting nowhere just nattering on and on like this!

 **Harvey**

Having your wife and your mother, as well as a team of complete strangers empty out your urine drainage bag is flattering? Honestly, I don't know which I'd find worse! Strangers or family!

 **Gomez**

Harvey, the Addams clan is an ancient line of brave, noble and dignified men and women from all over this planet. We are family. We look out for one another. This ordeal is inopportune, if not also a stunning display of the integrity of the Addams name. My family are doing this name proud. That this has happened to me, so be it. It is a bother, but a bother that any Addams can at least try to overcome!

 **Harvey**

You're not feeling stifled? Or trapped?

 **Gomez**

Of course I do. This entire experience has been incredibly inconvenient. But the care I've received has been capital, Harvey! Second to none.

 **Harvey**

I'm glad you think so. You talk about inconvenience and mild irritation, though. Are you not worried?

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Harvey. Frankly, I'm terrified! To entrust my wife, my mother and uncle to do every miniscule task that keeps me alive. The pain of it pierces my soul and sets it afire. They shouldn't have to, but they must!

 **Harvey**

Exactly.

 **Gomez**

It's one thing to be flattered, but it would crush my heart to expect them to surrender the rest of their lives to sustaining me.

 **Harvey**

So, look. I have a few ideas that may be able to help us make sure you don't get stuck like this forever.

 **Gomez**

You do?

 **Harvey**

We need to get your hands and arms back. It is so, so important.

 **Gomez**

Naturally. Oh, Harvey. How I long to take my dear Morticia's hand in mine!

 **Harvey**

Well, I meant for generally communicating, but yes. That too. And also, if we even only got your hand movement back to full or near-full capacity, we could suspend your arms in overhead slings for the meantime. You then could be able to get you brushing your own teeth in the morning! No more having your daughter do it.

 _A knock on the door, it's Wednesday._

 **Wednesday**

But I like it, Dr Harvey!

 _Harvey turns._

 **Gomez**

Wednesday! What are you doing here this time of day, young lady?

 **Wednesday**

Wanted to play.

 **Gomez**

Is Homer not in the mood?

 **Wednesday**

No.

 **Gomez**

What a fickle little tarantula she is.

 **Wednesday**

Can I play with _you_?

 **Gomez**

Of course, my dear. Come over here!

 _Wednesday runs over and sits on the bed beside her father._

 **Harvey**

Hi Wednesday. I've just been helping your father move better.

 **Wednesday**

Better? Is he getting better?

 **Gomez**

Why, of course I am!

 **Harvey**

We want him to be able to type on the keyboard and not have to rely on his eyes.

 **Wednesday**

Father's never been fast on the keyboard.

 **Gomez**

She's got a point.

 **Harvey**

Say, Wednesday, do you want to play a game?

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 **Harvey**

Okay. Could you do me a favour? Could you lift up your father's hand?

 _Wednesday obliges._

 _Wednesday raises Gomez's hand. It's a bit heavy._

 **Harvey**

Now, could you put it on the keyboard over here?

 _She puts it on the keyboard_

 **Harvey**

Now, let's see! Can you type your daughter's name?

 **Gomez**

Why Harvey, that's preposterous! Of course I can! It's W-E-D/

 **Harvey**

No, Mr Addams. I mean with your hand.

 _Gomez slightly nods._

 **Gomez**

Ah.

 _Wednesday moves her father's finger over the W key._

 **Wednesday**

Just press down! It's easy!

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday, my darling, it's not as easy as you'd think!

 **Wednesday**

Just push!

 **Gomez**

For you, I'll muster everything I've got!

 _Gomez twitches his finger slightly, and does manage to press down on the key, though not hard enough for it to register._

 **Wednesday**

You did it!

 **Gomez**

I did?

 **Harvey**

Not hard enough, I'm afraid. Give it another go.

 _Gomez uses everything in him to mash down on the W key and he actually manages it, using some of the small strength he has in some of his wrist muscles to push down._

 **Harvey**

Yes! Now, press E! It's right beside W!

 _Gomez closes his eyes to deeply clear his mind from distractions and fully concentrate, and with his hand still limply, flopping around, mashes the W and E keys with his mostly limp fingers. The screen now says WWE._

 **Harvey**

WWE. Not bad. At least it's an actual thing.

 **Wednesday**

You did it!

 **Harvey**

Can you reach the backspace key?

 **Wednesday**

It's on the other side.

 **Harvey**

No, actually, just keep going! Reach for the D key!

 _Gomez seems tired at this point. Slowly, he tries to move his hand to the D key but it just doesn't obey. It goes limp and Gomez tries to muster the strength to press down on where his hand has been placed, but can't manage it._

 **Harvey**

Alright, Mr Addams it's alright. It's alright.

 _Gomez looks sort of helpless._

 **Harvey**

Let's delete this.

 _Harvey deletes the "WWE" from the screen allowing Gomez to get back in contact._

 **Gomez**

I must admit, I have been running into some trouble with my hands lately.

 **Harvey**

It's alright. You got something. You moved them. It is something.

 **Wednesday**

I saw your fingers move!

 **Harvey**

Tomorrow, we may try again.

 **Gomez**

I'd like that.

 **Harvey**

How best to help you though? You truly do -

 _Harvey looks at Wednesday._

 **Harvey**

Wednesday?

 **Wednesday**

Yes?

 **Harvey**

Could... you leave myself and your father alone for a moment?

 **Gomez**

Run along now, Wednesday, we'll be one moment.

 **Wednesday**

Alright, father! See you soon!

 _Wednesday leaves._

 **Harvey**

She's a very understanding little one.

 **Gomez**

That's that Addams spirit! Makes my heart swell.

 **Harvey**

Careful with that. You don't want to have to have another transplant.

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes. Good thinking.

 **Harvey**

Thank you. But anyway. We need to speak about your condition. Without little ears hearing.

 **Gomez**

Yes?

 **Harvey**

As I said, you are recovering very slowly.

 **Gomez**

I suppose you _are_ the best judge of that.

 **Harvey**

We must work out how best to aid your recovery. You are definitely recovering, but we can't have it stop here. Even though we've seen improvements for sure, to have it plateau here leaves you still, extremely, severely disabled. Do you want that?

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! Of course not.

 **Harvey**

So, obviously, we need to work to make sure that doesn't happen.

 **Gomez**

I simply can't afford to live the rest of my life this way. What is now a mere inconvenience could very well expand beyond my limits over time. What will my children think of me? What will Morticia think of me? Will she grow tired of me?

 **Harvey**

Gomez! God, I'm sorry if I got you all up in your head about this.

 **Gomez**

I live in my head these days, Harvey! You've nothing to be sorry about.

 **Harvey**

But Gomez, don't ask those types of questions. We are here to discuss how to avoid it. Have you thought about braces? I'm going to prescribe you some.

 **Gomez**

Harvey! I already had braces! Five years straightening my teeth as a sickly young teen. But you know what they say, old man, you can't smile without 'em!

 **Harvey**

Braces for your arms, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Ah.

 **Harvey**

We would put them around your arms, to keep them in place. Stretched, supported, not limp like they are now.

 **Gomez**

But what if Tish couldn't hold my hand through them?

 **Harvey**

She'll find a way.

 **Gomez**

Of course. Foolish of me. What was I thinking?

 _Harvey sighs at Gomez's slowly re-opening mouth, which seems to be happening without Gomez actually being aware of it._

 **Harvey**

Ah. Mouth, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Zounds! Has it opened?

 **Harvey**

I'm afraid so.

 **Gomez**

Curses.

 **Harvey**

Try closing it yourself.

 _Gomez tries to close his mouth. He manages to get it about 75% of the way closed, but his mouth falls open again under the remainder of the strain, and he can't take it. Harvey seems very defeated by this. He's pushing for progress that Gomez hasn't yet made._

 **Harvey**

I'll get the rag out.

 _Gomez is feeling a healthy mix of disgruntled and helpless as Harvey produces the rag, folds it tightly and gently eases it into Gomez's open mouth. He wedges it in behind his bottom front teeth but in front of his top front teeth. Gomez looks visibly completely useless._

 **Gomez**

Capital.

 **Harvey**

I believe this is a variant of GBS called Miller Fisher syndrome.

 **Gomez**

A very becoming name. I must admit, old man, it'd be a truly delightful topic to read about, were I not presently afflicted with it.

 **Harvey**

Each to their own, I suppose. But we think this maybe why you're so slow to recover. The scope of this condition is immense.

 _Gomez has a thought and it briefly clouds the optimistic side of him._

 **Gomez**

If I never dance with her again... no. Don't let me think it, Harvey!

 **Harvey**

Well, ah. I can't tell you anything for sure right now. You know, there are plenty of wheelchair dancing classes out there...

 **Gomez**

By George, there are? Where? Let's go to one now! But notwithstanding, I hope against all hope to be up on my feet as soon as possible!

 **Harvey**

But you also do need to prepare yourself mentally for _all_ outcomes.

 **Gomez**

I've been told it's wise to, but I simply can't be wise!

 **Harvey**

You may need to start thinking about ways around doing what you can't do. Let's be realistic. You're a ventilator dependent quadriplegic who's mute and communicates via an eye gaze. Tomorrow, you're still going to be that. And tomorrow. Progress will be slow, and you need to adjust to this new state of being while also slowly and surely rebuilding. Take occupational therapy. Right now, there is precious little you can do by yourself. If anything. And that's so much to cope with. These classes could help you. Hell, _any_ classes could help you. If you take it, you empower yourself throughout the course of your journey to cope with all stages of recovery.

 **Gomez**

Harvey, you must find Tish. I ought to tell her. She must hear it from me!

 **Harvey**

I'll call for her.

 _Harvey pulls the rope to summon Lurch. Lurch enters._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Harvey**

Yes Lurch, could you fetch Mrs Addams for me please?

 _Lurch grunts and walks away, seeming to oblige._

 **Gomez**

You really think this could be it for me?

 **Harvey**

No, no! No, don't say that to her! I don't want you to get that impression. I'm just saying you need to prepare for it. 50/50 I'd say, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

I like those odds!

 **Harvey**

You do? A lot would be put off by them.

 **Gomez**

That's a fifty percent chance of success, old man!

 **Harvey**

A nice way to look at it. You're a bizarre optimist, you know that?

 **Gomez**

It beats being pessimistic. I tried it for a while when was younger. Didn't get much out of it.

 _Morticia enters._

 **Harvey**

Ah, the woman herself. I'll leave you two alone.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Doctor Harvey.

 _Harvey leaves the room._

 **Gomez**

Tish...

 **Morticia**

What is it, darling?

 **Gomez**

Harvey has just told me some rather troubling news.

 **Morticia**

Oh no!

 **Gomez**

No, his African Strangler has started eating again. Seems like it was just a flu.

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank heavens. But then what is this bad news?

 **Gomez**

He says my recovery is going slowly. I just can't comprehend it! Me? Slow? I suppose there is a first time for everything.

 **Morticia**

That is awfully unlike you, dear.

 **Gomez**

I took to Zen Yogi after just a month! I qualified in skydiving after one jump!

 **Morticia**

Your certifier _was_ Fester, dear.

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

But I see your point. You're not a man who's slow to adjust. You're lightning fast, with the speed of a trampling horde of elephants.

 **Gomez**

Ah, Tish. Our first safari.

 **Morticia**

It was magical.

 **Gomez**

The elephant crushing my foot turned out to be a blessing in disguise. How else would we have seen that beautiful sight?

 **Morticia**

Ah, that picturesque emergency room.

 **Gomez**

Let's go on another safari, Tish!

 **Morticia**

Now?

 **Gomez**

Yes!

 **Morticia**

Are you sure you're well enough?

 **Gomez**

Of course! An Addams can handle even the greatest adversity in the name of passion!

 **Morticia**

But Gomez, how will we get your wheelchair through the jungle?

 **Gomez**

Ah.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, it's a wonderful idea, but I think we ought to wait a while.

 **Gomez**

You're right. Foiled by blind logic! But this conveniently returns us to the unfortunate topic of my infirmity, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Oh yes, continue.

 **Gomez**

Harvey says there's a 50 50 chance I'll get better.

 **Morticia**

Those are reassuring odds, Gomez! Does he not think so?

 **Gomez**

I said the same, cara mia. He thought I was being "too optimistic".

 **Morticia**

Too optimistic? Outrageous. One can never be too optimistic.

 **Gomez**

You're right, of course, cara mia. But he told me I must prepare to spend the rest of my life this way.

 **Morticia**

That command comes on the basis of a coin flip, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Outrageous. Simply outrageous. I must at least be only half prepared!

 **Morticia**

That's very wise of you, darling. But do you think the doctor may be right?

 **Gomez**

He could be. Time will tell, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez, I do worry so about you.

 **Gomez**

Querida ... your beauty and compassion never fails to move me.

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez. I can't think of how life might be for us were you to remain this way.

 _Gomez doesn't think before he types._

 **Gomez**

Would you still love me?

 _Morticia's heart jolts with the absurdity of Gomez's question, though she understands where it's coming from. She sits at his bedside and takes his hand. She puts her other hand behind his head and slowly shifts it tilting to the left so their eyes meet. She looks him directly in the eyes when she answers him – definitively, once-and-for-all._

 **Morticia**

Oh, don't be silly, of course.

 _She gently turns Gomez's head directly back to look at the screen so he can type, resting it softly against his pillow._

 **Gomez**

I'm sorry, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Banish those unwelcome thoughts, Gomez. Don't let your anxiety consume you. That's all this is. Your anxiety rears its ugly head once more, corrupting your sanity. But my darling, you are far stronger than it.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

But it is true that I can't stand the sight of you reduced to this. You are such an active, virile, healthy man. Full of life. And now, you can't even smile. Oh, how I miss that smile, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

I miss it too, my love.

 **Morticia**

You are weak, confined to this bed… and yet, stronger than you've ever been. A different kind of strength. Your inner strength. I have always seen it inside you, but now, you have been forced to display it to the world.

 **Gomez**

For you, Morticia mia, anything.

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez. You just don't deserve this. Life is so horribly unfair.

 **Gomez**

That's what gives it its beauty.

 **Morticia**

Oh, but of course. I just, rather selfishly, wish it had not chosen you to inflict its unfairness upon. Pugsley and Wednesday deserve an active father, the father you could be to them. Teaching them basketball and bomb planting techniques, zen yogi and how best to care for an octopus...

 **Gomez**

Oh, Tish. My heart! It breaks just thinking about them.

 **Morticia**

Will you have to make your father of the groom's speech at Pugsley's wedding in a computerized voice off a screen? Will you have to accompany Wednesday down the aisle in a wheelchair? Gomez, darling.

 _Gomez closes his eyes. He is not comfortable with this thought at all, but is trying to let it wash over him. It's better than being dead, after all. When Morticia sees him close his eyes, she knows he's upset. She immediately regrets saying it._

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez, I'm sorry. I shouldn't think these thoughts aloud.

 _Gomez opens his eyes again. His eyes are watering but he's not crying. He's emotional, though. Morticia wipes them carefully._

 **Morticia**

There, there. Don't let my nattering get to you. There we go.

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, Tish. I'm just trying to half-make peace with the possibility.

 **Morticia**

How noble of you.

 **Gomez**

My love, this is my solemn vow to you! Whether I get better or not, I will do all things I have promised us! There will be a safari! A fourth honeymoon to the Siberian wastelands! We will still dance every night to the sounds of Lurch's beautiful harpsichord! I will speak at Pugsley's wedding one way or another. I will give Wednesday away, one way or another. As long as this contraption breathes for me, I vow to do it all! An Addams perseveres!

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez. You are an angel.

 **Gomez**

And you, divinity, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. To see you smile, though. That would be the greatest gift.

 **Gomez**

But Cara, I am smiling! Look.

 _Gomez types a :)_

 **Morticia**

Oh, my darling. You radiate such courage.

 **Gomez**

Me, radiate? That's a thought.

 **Morticia**

Did Harvey recommend occupational therapy?

 **Gomez**

Why querida, he did indeed!

 **Morticia**

Yes, he the same. He said for us to consider a dance class for inter-abled couples.

 **Gomez**

Sounds wonderful!

 **Morticia**

Should we, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

We must!

 **Morticia**

Then I shall call them right now! One moment, my darling.

 _Morticia takes out her phone and scrolls before finding the number that Harvey gave them. She dials it and waits as it rings._

 **Morticia**

Hello? Yes, is this The Peacock Dance studio? This is Morticia Addams speaking. I'm calling regarding my husband and I. Yes, we were interested in the adaptive inter-abled dance class. We so long to be able to dance again. Indeed. Which?

 _Morticia puts the phone down for a moment and turns to Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Which type of dance, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Tango! No, flamenco!

 **Morticia**

Tango and flamenco...

 **Gomez**

No, no! Waltz!

 **Morticia**

And waltz, too. Yes. Yes, the impaired party is my dear husband, Gomez. Yes. He will need a lot of assistance, yes. What's his condition? Well, to begin, my husband is a quadriplegic as of now. But he does have a bit of head movement. Ventilator dependent yes. No he can't speak, he communicates via an eye gaze. Oh, yes. We both want to dance. We miss it so dearly. Desperately. We used to dance together every night. Alright. Thank you oh, that's wonderful! That's truly wonderful. Thank you. Alright! I shall tell him right away.

 _She hangs up._

 **Morticia**

This weekend, Gomez! This weekend, we shall dance again.

 _This gives Gomez a jolt of excitement._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, I am overrun with passion!

 **Morticia**

Oh my darling, sweet Gomez...

 _She takes his hand again._

 **Gomez**

Hold me, Tish. I can't stand it a moment longer!

 **Morticia**

Anything your heart desires, cavaliero mio

 _Morticia gets up, and lays on the bed beside Gomez, holding his hand, then rolling over beside him, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest._

 **Gomez**

My vent is... rather loud, my dear. I hope it doesn't bother you.

 **Morticia**

No my sweet. It lets me know you're still here with us. It's a blessing.

 **Gomez**

No. You, querida, are the blessing.

 _They rest in silence for a while and then…_

 **Gomez**

What dance shall we do first, my dear?

 **Morticia**

Oh, a simple waltz, I think. You will look so dashing on the dance floor. When you are in your chair, you repose with such poise and dignity. I shall dress you in your best suit, of course.

 **Gomez**

Tish, you're a saint.

 **Morticia**

Bubeleh...

 **Gomez**

Querida mia, that word!

 _She instinctually takes the rag out of Gomez's mouth, leans in, and kisses him on the mouth. He is able to very weakly reciprocate._

 _Morticia smiles when she feels this._

 **Morticia**

Ever the romantic.

 **Gomez**

You _are_ simply irresistible.

 **Morticia**

And you, simply transcendent in your nobility, dear Gomez. So passionate, so generous, so dignified, so courageous.

 **Gomez**

And you, my darling Morticia... to have you, I am the most fortunate man on this Earth…

 **Morticia**

I would be lost without you Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Why, Tish, I can do one better. I'd be dead without you!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. How romantic.

 **Gomez**

Tish...

 _The two cuddle, Morticia finally gets under the covers, resting her head on Gomez's shoulder._

 **Morticia**

You should rest, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

I am feeling rather exhausted from all this talking.

 **Morticia**

Then sleep. I'll be right beside you.

 _Morticia turns the computer off and watches as Gomez closes his eyes. When she gets back down beside him, she decides to sleep beside him too._


	30. Day 106

_Gomez and Morticia are on the sidewalk, outside a massage parlour._

 **Gomez**

Capital idea to hire a masseuse, my dear!

 **Morticia**

Well, they always relax me when I'm feeling tense. It's just such a pity I couldn't get the chiropractor.

 **Gomez**

Well, you can't have everything!

 _Morticia opens the door to the bizarre, incense-thick, dingy looking salon. It does not look ideal to you or I - but perfect for an Addams._

 _Inside, the receptionist looks up and sees Morticia opening the door._

 **Receptionist**

Need a hand?

 **Morticia**

Thank you! We don't bring ours out that often, he's such a shy hand, our Thing.

 _The receptionist doesn't even bat an eye. She gets up and holds the door open as Morticia wheels Gomez through the door._

 **Morticia**

Why do so many seem to ask us that these days?

 **Gomez**

Why, common decency, I hope!

 **Receptionist**

Addams, yes?

 **Morticia**

Yes, I'm Morticia Addams, and this is my husband, Gomez.

 **Receptionist**

Yes, thank you, you're a bit early, I'll tell Kate you're here.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful.

 _The receptionist leaves._

 **Morticia**

Ah, what a relief. Kate is an excellent masseuse, Gomez.

 _Gomez nods before his eyes go wide._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, a thought has struck me!

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 **Gomez**

Why don't you come in with me?

 **Morticia**

Why?

 **Gomez**

To observe her masterful technique!

 _Morticia nods - a good idea._

 **Morticia**

Oh! I see. So I can do them on you myself, at home.

 **Gomez**

Precisely, my dear!

 _Morticia smiles coyly at Gomez. She imagines what giving her husband a massage would be like._

 **Morticia**

Bubeleh, how sensual that would be.

 **Gomez**

Tish, that word... it only adds to the sensuality of this moment!

 **Morticia**

I'm sure Kate wouldn't object if I observed her at work.

 **Gomez**

Of course not. How could anyone mind your presence, my dear?

 **Morticia**

I'll ask Kate when she's ready, my darling.

 _Morticia remembers something when she sees the clock about to turn 1.30pm._

 **Morticia**

But in the meantime, I believe it's time for your lunch.

 **Gomez**

My stomach rumbles with the intensity of the continental plates in collision!

 **Morticia**

It'll have to be jellied eel and ghost pepper yogurt again, I'm afraid.

 _Gomez makes a disappointed expression._

 **Gomez**

Ah, if it must.

 **Morticia**

Pureed foods and liquids _only_ until Dr Harvey says so, Gomez. Let's not pretend to forget.

 _Morticia takes a carton of jellied eel and ghost pepper flavoured yogurt out of a cooler lunchbox on the back of the powerchair._

 **Morticia**

Ah, another hot flavour today, Gomez. Remember, swallow at your own pace, _focus_ and concentrate on getting it down.

 **Gomez**

I shall, querida mia! I swear!

 _Morticia still worries - Gomez has never had stunning focus due to ADD among other things. Though, sometimes he has a way of surprising her._

 **Morticia**

Remember, Gomez, _focus_.

 _Morticia peels off the foil and takes out a tiny silver spoon. She sets them on a nearby table. From a bag on back of the powerchair, next to where the cooler lunchbox was, she produces a tray attachment that fits onto Gomez's lap. She readjusts the head rest so that Gomez's head can lean back a little more. She puts the yogurt on the spoon and brings it to his mouth._

 _Gomez uses his mouth movements, which are sloppy and jerky and overall still messy (but functional!), to ingest the yogurt. Then, about four or five agonizing seconds later, he finally manages to swallow it down. Morticia takes Gomez's hand and squeezes it after he successfully swallows the spoonful, smiling at him._

 **Morticia**

Well done, Gomez darling, the first swallow in a while _is_ always the hardest,after all.

 _Spoonful by spoonful, he swallows. It takes him about 3 to 4 seconds to swallow the first few times, as he has to concentrate every tiny muscle in his mouth to make it happen the way he wants it to. It genuinely tires him out. Morticia has a box of tissues (how much does the back of that powerchair hold?) and cleans his mouth after every spoonful._

 **Morticia**

You are doing exceptionally well, my darling.

 _She brings the spoon to his mouth again. He tries to close his mouth, but it doesn't close completely, though enough that some more yogurt goes in. He seems to have trouble this time. Morticia puts down the carton, and puts her hand on his back in case she needs to help him._

 **Morticia**

Concentrate, Gomez.

 _His eyes start to water._

 **Morticia**

Easy, easy.

 _She rubs his shoulders._

 **Morticia**

I have you, mon cher.

 _Gomez closes his eyes and swallows the spoonful._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez! You were masterful! Let's get you some water.

 _Gomez weakly nods._

 _Morticia takes out an ancient leather hip flask and brings it to Gomez's mouth. Swallowing liquids is slightly easier for him. He gulps down the water and it only takes him around 2 seconds or less to take the gulps._

 _Morticia takes out a cloth from the back of the chair and cleans Gomez's face with it. It's a chore to even eat. His eyes are watery, his mouth and chin are wet with drops of water and some of the yogurt._

 _Finally Gomez speaks again, turning his attention back to the eyegaze machine._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

No, mon cher, thank you. You're so diligent.

 **Gomez**

Tish...

 **Morticia**

Cavaliero mio...

 **Gomez**

Tish, when you speak French...

 **Morticia**

That's Spanish, darling.

 _Gomez blinks - she's right._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

When _you_ speak with that computer, Gomez, it warms my soul. It tells me that my husband is here, as he always has been. That no matter what the world might think, I know he is the same man.

 **Gomez**

I am, Tish. I am that man!

 **Morticia**

I know, and I am the most fortunate woman in the world for it.

 **Gomez**

Soon, querida mia!

 **Morticia**

Soon, we will take each other's hands!

 **Gomez**

And I will say... "Morticia... my sweet. My only one!"

 **Morticia**

And I will listen so attentively, hanging onto your every word.

 _The receptionist re-emerges._

 **Receptionist**

Gomez Addams?

 **Morticia**

Ah yes, this is my husband. May I join you? I am his carer, after all.

 **Receptionist**

Yes, of course. You paid for this, after all.

 **Gomez**

You did?

 **Morticia** _(Choosing to ignore Gomez's inquiry. He deserves to be treated, she thinks.)_

I'll bring him in.

 **Receptionist**

As you wish, Mrs Addams, whatever's best.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez down the hallway. The receptionist opens a door at the end of the hall for them, and Morticia wheels Gomez through. Inside the room is darker, and there is definitely more of a massage parlour vibe with essential oils diffusing, and soft music playing._

 **Receptionist**

This is Kate, and she is going to be your masseuse today, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

Good to meet you, Kate! Say, take my card! It's in my front pocket.

 _Kate takes the card politely. It says "Gomez F. Addams, LLM - professional vegetable. Available for hire." She stares at it before putting it out of her mind._

 **Kate**

Ah, Mrs Addams. Will you be watching?

 **Morticia**

Yes, Gomez just suggested it. I would like to observe, and learn how best to massage his extremities, his arms in particular, should he need me to.

 **Kate**

So, what is the issue at hand with his arms?

 _Morticia and Gomez both laugh at the unintentional pun. Kate is confused._

 **Kate**

What?

 **Morticia**

Oh, Kate - you _are_ a comedienne.

 **Gomez**

It's the way she tells it!

 **Kate**

What? I -

 _Kate has no idea what is so funny. She shakes it off and asks again._

 **Kate**

Sorry, what is the issue?

 **Morticia** _(still coyly smiling at Kate)_

Well, my dear sweet Gomez has been afflicted with paralysis.

 **Kate**

To quite a degree, I see.

 **Gomez**

Indeed I am! Astutely noticed!

 **Kate**

But you are most concerned with his arms.

 **Gomez**

Yes.

 **Morticia**

Indeed, his physiotherapist, Dr Harvey, says they need to be strengthened. He can barely press a button! Why, he can barely lift his fingers, let alone move his entire arm!

 **Kate**

And you think massage will help?

 **Morticia**

Harvey said it would loosen him up, relieve some of the tension, and perhaps nip the issue of spasticity in the bud.

 **Kate**

Right I'll see what I can do.

 _Kate examines Gomez's right hand, and squeezes it. She lifts up each finger, which look toneless, floppy, and dead. They flop after she drops them. She lifts up his whole hand, drops it, and it flops._

 **Kate**

Have you considered braces too?

 **Morticia**

Ah, yes. They are on their way.

 **Kate**

Where did you order them from?

 **Morticia**

Wish - I hadn't heard of it before, but they kept advertising themselves to me, so I thought best to appease them.

 _Kate stares._

 **Kate**

How about we get you up on the table there, sir?

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, don't call me sir! Mr Addams will do.

 **Morticia** _(gushingly looking at Gomez, more in love with him now than ever)_

Ah, dear Gomez, he's so polite.

 **Gomez**

And you, so exquisite, so generous, so -

 _Gomez can't finish the thought, as Kate pushes his eyegaze computer out of the way, readying him to be transferred._

 **Kate**

Alright, let's get you up. Okay? Yes?

 _Kate gestures for Morticia to help her take a body sling from under Gomez, which he's been sitting on, underneath him, this entire time, since they knew he was likely to be transferred onto a table._

 _Morticia and Kate take the sling from under G and take one side each. Together, they heave Gomez out of the chair, and with tremendous force, the two of them lift him up onto the masseuse's table._

 _Kate readies some hot towels. Morticia straightens his body out, keeping his weight evenly distributed and his body supine._

 **Kate**

You can remove his clothes now, if you would prefer to do that yourself.

 **Morticia**

Oh, of course.

 _Morticia looks at Gomez, now unable to communicate through words. She always feels even more protective over him when he's in this state, and she was already baseline uber-protective of him ever since he first got sick._

 _She looks right into his eyes, making sure he understands every word and doesn't feel invisible._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, did you hear that? I'm going to take off your shirt, alright?

 **Kate**

A full body massage yes?

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. I ought to learn that, shouldn't I? Yes, absolutely. Do, still, focus mostly on the limbs.

 **Kate**

Of course.

 _Morticia gently unbuttons Gomez's shirt, and unties his tie._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, I know you do care greatly about your presentation, but maybe next time, to wear a tie would only be a nuisance.

 _Gomez can't respond, he just looks at Morticia, now sweating a lot from how humid the room is, and dribbling like a baby._

 **Morticia**

Kate, can you help me take his jacket off?

 **Kate**

Of course.

 _Kate goes over and together, they prop him up. Morticia lifts his body up and the top half of him flops over. They grab him and keep him held in place. She slips off one sleeve of the jacket, and Morticia eases off the other sleeve, and when the whole thing has been eased off his body, they do the same with his shirt, and then finally, gently, lay him back down._

 **Morticia**

Now his trousers, Kate.

 _Kate and Morticia take Gomez's shoes off, unbutton his pants, and carefully slip the trousers off. Gomez is still wearing plenty underneath: circulation socks, and a diaper to his great indignation, but it cannot be avoided - yet. Morticia folds the clothes and leaves them on a locker near the door. They don't take anything else off - for both Gomez's dignity and his circulation._

 _Kate gathers some wet hot towels._

 _Morticia takes a tissue, and wipes Gomez's forehead clean of sweat. With another dab she wipes away his dribble._

 _Kate takes one small hot towel, and gently places it on Gomez's forehead. She takes another, and puts it on his neck, to cover his tracheostomy and tracheostomy tube, and finally, one more on his chest, covering his feeding tube._

 **Kate**

Okay Mr and Mrs Addams, I think we can start.

 _Kate begins doing the massage. Morticia takes a wax tablet and stylus out of nowhere and starts taking notes. Kate doesn't seem to pay much attention until she looks and sees it in her peripheral vision. She fully stops the massage, turns around, and gawks._

 **Kate**

Back with the tablet, Mrs Addams? I told you, not a great idea.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I suppose you're right. The heat in here had already begun to melt it.

 **Kate**

I swear, just take notes on your phone.

 **Morticia**

Oh, that won't be necessary, Kate, dear! I prepared a back-up in advance of this exact situation.

 _Morticia puts the wax tablet on a nearby table. Kate looks away. When she looks back, just a moment later, Morticia holds a really long scroll and a quill._

 **Kate**

Where did/

 **Morticia**

/But what to do with all this wax?

 **Kate**

Mrs Addams, how on earth did you get/

 **Morticia**

/I know! You massage therapists often use hot wax as part of your treatments, don't you?

 **Kate**

Well, yes, but/

 **Morticia**

/Wonderful!

 _Morticia reaches for the wax tablet, tips it over, and dumps all the wax onto Gomez's body._

 **Morticia**

There you are, lovely and waxy.

 _Kate looks like she wants to die._

 **Kate**

Mrs Addams, please, just stick to taking notes, the type of wax we use isn't... well - stylus wax.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Kate. Why didn't you say so?

 **Kate**

Just... write down what I do. Look, he's sweating. That wax is boiling hot.

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, Kate. My dear Gomez is just so hot-blooded. It's the Castilian in him - he does sweat so when he's excited.

 _Kate wipes away tons of sweat from Gomez's body and glares at both of them._

 **Kate**

Mr Addams, are you alright?

 _Gomez weakly nods._

 _Kate is so confused by both of them._

 **Kate**

Really?

 _Gomez nods, a little stronger this time._

 **Kate**

God help me.

 _Morticia unravels the scroll. Kate sees that on the top of it, she's written "step one: wax"._

 **Kate**

Mrs Addams, step one is "undress him".

 **Morticia**

Well, not necessarily - sometimes, I feel his suits could do with a good waxing.

 _Kate is the human equivalent of the "guess I'll die" meme._

 **Kate**

Why? I just - I... - why does your disabled husband wear full suits?

 **Morticia**

Why, Kate! The answer is simple - wearing half a suit would be so unbecoming!

 _Gomez nods, his nodding gaining conviction each time as he continues to repeat the movement._

 **Morticia**

Oh, look - Gomez, darling, your head and neck regain their strength with each passing second. Your massages are truly inspired, Kate.

 _Kate wants to turn into a water droplet and promptly evaporate, but keeps her cool. She is massaging his arm - nowhere near his neck or head._

 **Kate**

That's not really how this works, but/

 **Morticia**

/And humble too!

 _Morticia gets up and walks over to Gomez. She takes his hand, while Kate is still massaging it._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, we are so fortunate to have consummate professionals like Kate at our disposal for your recovery.

 _Kate lets go and just stops massaging him altogether._

 **Kate**

Disposal? Great idea. I think we're done. You can dispose of me however you'd like. Because I'm out of here. You two are insane.

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank you. Leaving us to have a moment to ourselves. How very considerate of you!

 **Kate**

I just/

 **Morticia**

/How much of a tip should we leave? 25%? No?

 _Gomez rolls his eyes up._

 **Morticia**

Hm, yes, Gomez, you _are_ right, she does deserve higher for such a masterful display of prowess and technique. 35%!

 _Gomez rolls his eyes up higher a second time._

 **Morticia**

Higher still? Yes, I suppose you do deserve it.

 _Morticia places her hand on Gomez's neck, taking away the towel that covered his tracheotomy tube._

 **Morticia**

He feels more supple already.

 **Kate**

That's his neck, it's covered in... a tube, and a cuff and a collar and plastic and - you're not even touching his skin!

 **Morticia**

Kate, I was merely/

 **Kate**

/Bye! I'm done. Good luck!

 _Kate storms out, leaving Morticia in the room with Gomez lying exposed on the table. The candles flicker and the smell of the essential oils continue to make the atmosphere at least_ seem _calm._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. She is such a master at her craft, but so tragically high-strung. I suppose you do often hear of the troubled genius.

 _Morticia takes out a bottle of wine from nowhere and a straw._

 **Morticia**

But still, how thoughtful of her to leave us alone for a wine tasting by candlelight. She has the soul of a romantic. Just like you... _bubeleh_ …

 _Gomez does a slight head movement, the tiniest, subtle head shake. Morticia's word ignites a fire within him._

 _Morticia pours some wine into a collapsible glass that she pulls from the same nowhere that everything else she's produced has come from. It's not a lot of wine. She places the straw in it, and carefully wraps her arms around Gomez's shoulders, slowly lifting his torso up. She holds it in place, seeing he can't hold his torso up by himself yet. She places the straw in his mouth and holds the wine in her other hand, awkwardly allowing him to slowly sip the wine and ingests it, sucking it up awkwardly through the straw, taking a few seconds to swallow properly._

 _Still, both are deeply thankful for Gomez's being able to take in and swallow the wine all by himself, and his being able to actually taste it rather than take it impersonally through his feeding tube and be unable to enjoy it fully. Above all else, though, they are thankful for the romantic opportunity that Kate's "generosity" has afforded them. They exchange a deeply loving smile, and savour the wine, and the quiet moment together._


	31. Day 110

_Fester is in Gomez's room, alone with his nephew, getting ready to wash his hair for him, a task he feels unprepared for in every conceivable way._

 **Fester**

"Wash his hair" this, "wash his hair" that. Your mama's a nut, Gomez. A nut! I don't know how to wash hair.

 _Fester looks, almost pleadingly, at Gomez._

 **Fester**

Aw, shucks, Gomez. Gimme a break! I don't even know how to wash my own!

 **Gomez**

Your own?

 _Fester wildly motions to his head._

 **Fester**

Exactly!

 _Gomez manages a weak nod._

 **Gomez**

You do have a point.

 _Fester sighs dramatically, putting on a pair of rubber gloves._

 **Fester**

Why doesn't Mama just wash your hair like usual?

 **Gomez**

Why, Fester! She's at urgent care!

 _Fester seems unenthused as he roots around the room for some towels._

 **Fester**

Really? what happened to her?

 **Gomez**

Not her – she fractured her alligator's tailbone while they were wrestling.

 _Fester sighs sadly._

 **Fester**

Poor Gator, once a runt, always a runt.

 _Fester drapes the huge stack of towels that he's sourced over Gomez's neck and chest. Then, he takes a basin from the shelf, and puts it on the bed next to Gomez._

 **Fester**

Giddy up, Gomez.

 _Fester takes Gomez's head in his hands, and raises it a slight amount, sliding the basin underneath his head. The basin, of course, has an opening for the head of the patient to lay in._

 _Fester puts another towel on Gomez's chest. This is the seventh towel._

 **Fester**

Another towel?

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Fester, but I think that's quite enough for now, old man!

 _Fester shrugs, exuding an "I give up" vibe._

 **Fester**

Well, I suppose we oughta get started.

 _Fester picks up a portable shower head that's been hooked up to the sink by a long hose in the other room. He spins it around, presses a button, and it begins spraying water. It shoots water around the room, wetting Fester all over. He spits out the water and shakes it off like a dog, before finally getting it under control. He starts filling Gomez's head basin up with water. Fester seems worried by the apparent lack of towels._

 **Fester**

Gomez, I think ya might need another towel.

 _Gomez politely declines._

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, old boy! I can feel my breathing tube being pushed further and further inside my trachea under the weight! Seven is more than enough!

 **Fester**

The tube thing's a good thing?

 **Gomez**

Might help me breathe deeper.

 **Fester**

Noted! Alright, another towel it is!

 _Fester produces another towel, and drapes it over the other towels. Gomez seems a little bemused._

 **Gomez**

Well, if you _insist!_

 _Fester, finally satisfied with the stratified cliff-face of towels laid on top of Gomez's chest, realizes he actually has to do the hair washing bit now, and begins to get panicky again._

 **Fester**

Now…

 _Fester looks around for the shampoo and can't immediately locate it. When he can't, he changes his tune and decides to start from the very beginning._

 **Fester**

The time has come to, uh…

 _Fester fumbles inside his coat pocket, and takes out some pieces of paper with the WikiHow article "How To Wash Somebody Else's Hair" printed on it._

 **Fester**

Ah, right. Step one!

 _Fester promptly puts the shower head down and walks out the door, to Gomez's bafflement._

 _Fester knocks on the door. He then just walks inside anyway, before Gomez can respond._

 **Fester**

Hello sir or madam! I am Nurse Fester, I'm here to wash your hair today! Thank you for letting me help you!

 _Gomez is impressed by Fester's commitment to the role._

 **Gomez**

Capital acting, Fester! I'm immersed!

 **Fester**

Oh, you! - I mean, uh - allow me to check your ID bracelet, sir or madam.

 **Gomez**

Fester/

 **Fester**

/Please, sir or madam. It's so I can confirm your identity.

 _Fester lifts up Gomez's arm, and sees that there obviously is no ID bracelet._

 **Gomez**

Fester, old boy, you know it's me! You can cut out this step! They only wear IDs in hospitals, or homes for the aged!

 _Fester sighs, disillusioned by how little a help WikiHow has been so far._

 **Fester**

Ugh! Ya can't trust anything you read on the internet these days!

 _Fester clears his throat._

 **Fester**

Anyway, sir or madam, I know it's been a little while since you last had your…

 _Fester brings his eyes closer to the page as so to be able to read it better. His face is now inches from the print-out._

 **Fester**

… _hair_ …

 _Gomez manages a weak nod, urging Fester to continue._

 **Fester**

…shampooed, and so I know it always makes people feel better to have clean hair…

 _Fester shakes his head, not good at keeping up appearances._

 **Fester**

Oh, Gomez, this is nonsense – how's a guy like me supposed t'know that?

 **Gomez**

Outrageous of them, Fester, purely outrageous.

 _Fester sighs, so unenthused by the WikiHow tips by now that he doesn't even pretend to be interested in the performance anymore._

 **Fester**

So… allow me to wash your hair, sir or madam.

 **Gomez**

Sir.

 _Fester breaks character._

 **Fester**

Aw, you don't have to call me that, Gomez, I'm just plain ol' Fester.

 _Fester, without much warning, returns to looking for the shampoo. After a while of rooting in mouseholes, he reaches below the bed, finds a bottle of the shampoo he wants to use. It is coveed in dust and spider webs._

 _Fester shakes it around, and squirts it into his hands. Then, he begins massaging the shampoo into Gomez's hair, without even indicating that he was going to begin. Fester is a rough nurse, but Gomez actually doesn't seem to mind._

 _Fester keeps soaking Gomez's hair with the shampoo, seeming more and more disgruntled as time goes on._

 **Fester**

Gomez, you sure don't have as much hair as I thought ya did.

 **Gomez**

Ah, it's how you style it, my boy!

 **Fester**

D'you think there's a way to style mine so I don't look as…

 _Fester trails off._

 **Fester**

Oh, yeah.

 _Fester goes back to lathering Gomez's hair._

 **Gomez**

Fester, you old dog. Hair or no hair, you're the very picture of class.

 **Fester**

Gee, Gomez, you know how to make an old baldy feel better.

 _Deciding that he is done, Fester slowly lowers Gomez's head back into the basin, and starts running the water through his hair to clean the shampoo out._

 **Fester**

You're a good patient, Gomez. Ya know, I had to do this to Kittycat once!

 _Gomez weakly shakes his head in resigned acknowledgement of the Kittycat incident._

 **Gomez**

Poor old Kitty. Such a bashful cat.

 **Fester**

You're a much better patient than him.

 _Fester stops for a moment and shows Gomez a scar on his arm._

 **Fester**

That's what he did to me when I tried to lather his mane. _You'd_ never do that to me.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Fester! That's 'cause I can't!

 _Fester swirls the water around in the basin, and lifts Gomez's head up out of it again, spraying his hair with the shower head to wash everything out._

 _Fester then takes the basin and throws its contents out the window. A yell from outside is heard but not commented on by either party._

 **Fester**

Now you're looking your best, Gomez. Gee, wish I had hair.

 **Gomez**

Why not arrange a swap? Your universal mobility for my hair?

 **Fester**

How'd that even work? I sold my last monkey's paw on Craigslist for eclipse glasses.

 **Gomez**

I'm almost certain we have a magic lamp collection in the basement – one of them's bound to have a genie!

 **Fester**

Good thinking, but/

 _There's a knock on the door. Morticia enters._

 **Morticia**

Oh, hello Fester, dear. Did you not hear Lurch's summoning you?

 **Fester**

Great. Must be going deaf. More problems.

 **Morticia**

Well, your dinner is ready downstairs. Smoked and braised possum meatloaf.

 _Fester perks up instantaneously._

 **Fester**

Oh, goody! See ya later, Gomez!

 _Fester scampers out, beaming. Morticia and Gomez watch as he leaves them, without drying, combing or even acknowledging Gomez's still wet hair._

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear. He _was_ hungry. Too hungry to finish washing you.

 **Gomez**

Certainly seems that way, doesn't it?

 **Morticia**

Allow me, my darling.

 _Morticia takes another towel from the towel shelf, and dries Gomez's hair with it by hand. Then, she eases his head up, and slides a pillow back underneath to give his head some support and elevation._ _She keeps the towel behind his head too, to soak up the water droplets that still haven't been washed from his hair as of yet. He shoots her a weak, open-mouthed smile as a way of thanks._

 **Gomez**

Where would I be if not for you, cara mia?

 **Morticia**

I shudder even to think of it. Oh, my dear, sweet, Gomez.

 _She strokes his face somewhat mournfully._

 **Morticia**

My darling, I must go down to dinner now. But, try not to worry. I shall be right back to feed you yours.

 _Morticia rises, and begins gliding towards the door. Gomez feels a sudden jolt of panic. He doesn't want to be left alone._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_

 _Morticia turns back around and smiles, sorrowfully, at her husband. She, too, wishes he could join them, but she worries about the consistency of his ability to swallow, and she doesn't want to cause him unnecessary pain, having to witness his family eat a solid version of the pureed paste he'll have to be fed._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. You are so courageous.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, my soul is afire with sudden desperation! Let me come downstairs and eat with you!

 _Morticia stops in her tracks and sadly watches her completely inert husband lying there, trying to imagine the loneliness he feels when everyone eats without him present._

 **Morticia**

But darling, you can't eat solids. I fear to watch us do so would only be upsetting to you.

 **Gomez**

But to be here while my family dines without me? The thought alone crushes my soul, querida.

 **Morticia**

And the children would _love_ to see their father back at the dinner table…

 _Morticia approaches Gomez again and clasps his hand._

 **Morticia**

Your inner strength holds no bounds, my darling, sweet Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, allow me to make my case.

 **Morticia**

Of course, my devilish defence lawyer.

 **Gomez**

I can swallow soft foods –

 **Morticia**

You can indeed.

 **Gomez**

And my wheelchair can be brought downstairs!

 **Morticia**

 _It_ can indeed.

 **Gomez**

To accompany you at dinner requires merely one transfer!

 **Morticia**

Into the hoist at the top of the stairs. And I would wheel your powerchair into the dumbwaiter and drop it to the dining room.

 _Morticia is becoming sold on this prospect. Only yesterday did she catch Wednesday and Pugsley speculating as to whether their father would ever be back to "normal" again. To have him back at the dinner table would almost certainly restore a small sense of normality to the children._

 **Gomez**

Say no more, querida mia! I will retake my place at the head of the table tonight! I insist!

 **Morticia**

Our poor, dear children have dined without their beloved father for far too long. Oh, they will be so delighted to see you downstairs.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia…_

 **Morticia**

My _darling_ …

 _She leans over her husband, and places a tender kiss on his forehead._

 **Morticia**

I'll call for Lurch.

 _Morticia stands back up properly, and pulls the noose, summoning Lurch. Lurch immediately arrives._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Yes, Lurch? Could you please carry Mr. Addams to his hoist at the top of the stairs? He wishes to join us for dinner.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Delightful. Gomez, I shall manoeuvre your chair downstairs myself.

 **Gomez**

Capital!

 _Morticia slides away the stand that has Gomez's eyegaze computer and monitor on it. She clicks it on to the built-in stand on Gomez's powerchair, and she wheels the empty chair out of the room, leaving her husband, once again, voiceless._

 **Morticia**

Lurch, do be quick. I can't have the meatloaf going cold before we get him down.

 _Lurch nods._

 _He picks up Gomez's ventilator, and hangs it, suspended from his pinky finger. He then takes Gomez's urine drainage bag from the side of the bed, and balances it on his ring finger on the same hand._

 _Then, with these two important tubes that are literally attached to Gomez, Lurch scoops up his master's body, and carries him like a giant baby – incredibly easily – in his arms, out of the room._

 _Lurch carries Gomez to the landing, and when they reach the hoist, Lurch slowly lowers Gomez into the hoist's sling._

 _The hoist is attached to a stairlift. Lurch, still carrying the ventilator and drainage bag, straps Gomez into the hoist. There's no headrest though, and Lurch can't stop Gomez's head from drooping forward, Gomez still being unable to hold his head up._

 **Lurch**

Sorry, Mr Addams.

 _Unable to respond, Gomez's head just continues to hang as Lurch presses the on button. The hoist slowly begins to descend, down the stairs with Gomez suspended in it. Lurch walks beside him, carrying his medical equipment._

 _At the bottom of the stairs, Morticia comes into view, waiting with the powerchair ready to go already._

 _She wheels it over to where Gomez is about to finish up at the end of the stairs._

 **Morticia**

Lurch, dear, can you lower the hoist into the chair?

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 _Lurch lower the hoist/sling into the powerchair, obviously still with Gomez suspended in it. Lurch moves the ventilator back to its usual position on the back of the powerchair, and seats the urine drainage bag hanging just above Gomez's feet. Morticia slowly repositions Gomez's feet so they are sitting comfortably and straight ahead on the footrests._

 _Morticia then takes a blanket from the nearby "good chair", and drapes it over Gomez's body, below the neck, before placing a throw on Gomez's lap as well._

 _Gomez can't really move his eyebrows that much at all, but the tiniest, microscopic flicker seems to ask Morticia "why these blankets, my dear?"_

 _Morticia reads the miniscule eyebrow flicker perfectly, responding as if he'd said it aloud. This is how connected they are._

 **Morticia**

To keep you warm, mon cher.

 _She instinctually kisses Gomez's forehead after saying those words. Any utterance of French that goes unacknowledged drives Gomez mad with pent-up passion._

 _Morticia takes a paper towel, from the tissue box in the bag on the back of the powerchair, and she wipes away the drool coming from Gomez's open mouth. Then, with a comb that she produces, as per, from seemingly nowhere, she runs it though her husband's hair, smoothening and neatening it._

 **Morticia**

So, my darling. Dinner time. It may take me a little more time to puree the meatloaf.

 _As she says this, Morticia slides the eygaze computer back into Gomez's line of vision, and turns the screen back on._

 **Gomez**

That is quite alright, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _Gomez!_

 _Morticia seems to be overcome by love. She turns to Lurch and gushes – this is not overly excited, teen-girl gushing, but a gushing that is coming from a place of profound respect and all-encompassing adoration._

 **Morticia**

Look at him, in his wheelchair.

 _She turns to Gomez, though she was clearly also addressing him before too._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, you _are_ _so dignified_. The poise and gravitas this wheelchair affords you… oh, cavaliero mio, it is worlds away from the degrading helplessness of your sickbed.

 **Lurch**

Dinner, Mrs Addams.

 _Both Morticia and Gomez snap out of it, reminded as to what is actually happening in real life._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

Where were we, Lurch, dear?

 **Lurch**

Dinner.

 **Morticia**

Oh, of course. Allow me to wheel him in. I simply must see how the children react.

 **Gomez**

Can't wait to see the smiles on those little nippers' faces.

 **Morticia**

Come, my dear – come, Lurch. Let's eat.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez into the dining room, accompanied by Lurch. They prepare to see the reactions of Wednesday, Pugsley and Fester._


	32. Day 110 (Part 2)

Day 110: Part 2

 _Fester is cutting the braised possum meatloaf with an axe as Morticia, Gomez and Lurch enter the dining room. He's aiming the axe as best he can, hands quivering._

 _He brings the axe down, but turns to see Morticia, Gomez and Lurch right as the axe is mid swing. Instead of cutting the meatloaf, he misses completely and embeds the axe right into the middle of the table. Fester gawks at Gomez._

 **Fester**

Gomez! What brings ya down here?

 **Morticia**

Ah, Uncle Fester. Gomez and I feel the time has come for him to rejoin us at the dinner table.

 **Fester**

Aw, shucks, Gomez. I'm worried about ya. Ya haven't got nearly enough towels.

 _Lurch groans._

 _Wednesday runs into the dining room once she hears her parents. When she sees her father, she gasps._

 **Wednesday**

Father! You're here!

 _Wednesday runs to him, and hugs his leg - despite it being under the blanket, she locates it and hugs it tightly, not letting go. Pugsley scampers in too, not far behind. He is holding what looks like a bizarre headband, that's clearly handmade._

 **Pugsley**

Father! Father! I made you a present!

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 _Pugsley proudly places it on his father's lap and watches expectantly. Gomez's gaze shifts as far down as possible as he tries to discern what this gift even is. Pugsley is beaming._

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, my boy!

 _Gomez tries to figure out what Pugsley has made him._

 **Gomez**

It's beautiful!

 _Gomez tries racking his brain for any indication as to what it might be, but cannot think of anything._

 **Gomez**

What is it?

 **Pugsley**

A headband, father!

 **Morticia**

A headband? What for?

 **Pugsley**

So your head won't fall forward, father! Grandmama said if that happened, you wouldn't be able to lift it back up.

 _Gomez genuinely smiles, and looks at Morticia – his smile is nowhere near what it used to be, considering he doesn't have a ton of mouth control yet, but he smiles obviously enough that it's clear that's what he's doing. (I think John Astin's Gomez has an extremely iconic smile, so if you can picture a more slack-jawed, watered-down, almost plastic-y version of that, you're golden)._

 **Gomez**

Why, Pugsley – you're quite the little inventor. Let's give it a whirl!

 _Pugsley excitedly takes it off of Gomez's lap and unravels it._

 **Gomez**

What's it made of?

 **Pugsley**

Fiberglass and steel wool!

 **Gomez**

Ah! Capital choice, my boy!

 **Morticia**

So kind of our darling Pugsley to choose materials that won't be too harsh on you. You always have had such sensitive skin, my dear.

 **Fester**

They used to call ya "Moonburn Addams"!

 **Gomez**

They still do, Fester! Who else can use up a whole bottle of lanolin in one moonbathing session?

 **Fester**

Well, I can, but/

 **Morticia**

/Ah, but Fester, dear, you _eat_ it, remember?

 **Fester**

Aw, I can't help it, Morticia! It tastes like jelly. Don't knock it 'til ya try it.

 **Pugsley**

Watch this, father!

 _Pugsley ties one end of the headband to the back of Gomez's headrest._

 **Pugsley**

Mother, will you bring it across for me?

 **Morticia**

Of course, darling. You are _just_ like your father. So wonderfully generous.

 _Morticia takes the headband, and brings it across, over Gomez's forehead, and to the other side of the headrest. She ties it to the other side of the headrest. Indeed, the headband suspends Gomez's head in place, preventing it from falling forward. Pugsley seems delighted that it worked._

 **Morticia**

Why, Gomez. It _is_ becoming.

 _Morticia produces a hand mirror from nowhere and shows Gomez his reflection. He examines it up and down, and shoots Morticia and Pugsley another semi-smile._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, your smile is getting stronger and stronger each day.

 **Gomez**

It is? Capital. Can you see my teeth?

 **Morticia**

Of course, my dear, why?

 **Gomez**

Mama was getting concerned my orthodontic work would be for nought should my smile be taken from me!

 **Morticia**

Well, not to worry, my darling. You are looking more and more like your dashing self with each passing day.

 _Gomez now can't stop smiling. He missed these dinner table conversations. Pugsley takes his seat at the dinner table, as do Fester and Lurch. Wednesday stays hugging her father's leg, and Morticia stays standing beside her husband._

 **Gomez**

 _Querida_ , your words – they comfort me so! You always know just what to tell me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, darling. So do you. _Your_ words warm my soul.

 _Morticia begins to wheel Gomez into his old position at the head of the table. Wednesday follows, just silently hugging her father. Morticia eyes the chair he sat on when he was well, and moves it out of the way. The chair is covered in dust – it hasn't been sat in since Gomez became sick._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara mia. Soon, my dear, I will say such words in my own voice!

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez_ … whether they emanate robotically from that machine, or ring out in your own, rugged voice – their impact is the same.

 _She kisses his forehead. Fester makes a "yuck" facial expression. Pugsley giggles at this. Gomez seems excited by what Morticia said, though._

 **Gomez**

Tish! Rugged? Me?

 _Fester takes a huge bite of the meatloaf._

 **Fester**

Never thought ya the "rugged" type, Gomez.

 **Morticia**

Uncle Fester, remember. Once dear Gomez can finally breathe on his own again, the doctors will have to remove that tube from his neck. He will be unimaginably hoarse. Nothing exudes ruggedness like a hoarse voice.

 **Gomez**

Astute thinking, Tish.

 **Morticia**

You shall sound like a pirate captain. Or a Wild West gunslinger.

 **Fester**

Or an asthmatic.

 **Gomez**

I'm already an asthmatic, Fester!

 **Fester**

Oh. I never noticed. Why didn't ya say so?

 **Morticia**

Fester, dear. Gomez's asthma can hardly affect him at the present time, when this machine feeds his lungs all the air they could possibly need.

 **Fester**

Gee, Gomez. I'm startin' ta think this disease, or whatever ya call it, was inevitable. You've a laundry list of sicknesses.

 **Gomez**

And that's on top of a laundry list of pyjamas!

 _Wednesday giggles._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, dear, do you want some possum meatloaf?

 **Wednesday**

Can I have it down here?

 **Morticia**

Darling Wednesday, I know you've missed your father eating with us, but you need to learn some table manners if you want to impress that boy in your class. That invisible boy – what _was_ his name?

 **Gomez**

Woodrow!

 **Morticia**

That's the one. Well remembered, Gomez. Now, Wednesday. You want to look polite for young Woodrow, yes?

 **Wednesday**

Yes, mother.

 **Morticia**

Now, up you get. Let your father's leg breathe. You have been clutching it tightly.

 **Wednesday**

I thought he couldn't feel his legs.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Wednesday! Of course I can!

 **Wednesday**

Did it hurt?

 **Gomez**

It was pleasantly painful, paloma – nothing to worry about.

 **Wednesday**

Can I sit on father's lap?

 **Morticia**

Oh, Wednesday, dear. Usually, I would say yes, but I must feed your father his dinner, too.

 **Wednesday**

Can't I help?

 **Morticia**

Darling, if you truly want to help, you may help by blending the meatloaf.

 **Wednesday**

Alright!

 _Wednesday, thoroughly caught up in wanting to help her father, scampers out into the kitchen._

 **Wednesday**

Come, Lurch! Let's blend!

 **Lurch**

Yes, Miss Wednesday.

 _Lurch gets up from the table, having already finished his meatloaf, and follows the exited Wednesday into the kitchen._

 **Gomez**

She's so thoughtful, Tish - a true Addams!

 _Gomez smiles devilishly._

 **Gomez**

Reminds me of someone else I know.

 **Morticia**

Who, Cousin Belch?

 **Gomez**

Why, you, _querida!_ Who else?

 _Morticia strokes her husband's cheek._

 **Morticia**

Flatterer.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia_ …

 _Morticia brings her forehead to Gomez's forehead, and keeps stroking his cheek as they gaze into each others' eyes._

 **Fester**

Do you two ever stop?!

 **Gomez** _(still having his cheek stroked by Morticia, locked in a moment of passion)_

No, Fester, we do not.

 **Morticia**

As long as my dear Gomez breathes.

 _Gomez can't wipe the awkward open-mouthed smile off his face._

 **Gomez**

And even when I can't!

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez,_ you are so right. Our love defies disease, defies illness, defies paralysis…

 _The sound of the obscenely loud blender cuts through the passionate moment, and after a few moments, Lurch and Wednesday return, holding a tub of liquefied possum meatloaf._

 **Wednesday**

Here it is, father! Hope you like it!

 **Gomez**

Ah, your mother's meatloaf is the stuff of legends, Wednesday.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Gomez. Here. You simply must taste my updated recipe! See if you can guess the new spice I've added to it!

 _Wednesday politely takes her seat at last, as Lurch returns to his seat too. Pugsley, Fester, Lurch and Wednesday watch as Morticia takes a spoon of the liquefied meatloaf out of the tub. She lifts it up to Gomez's mouth and feeds it to him, watching him extremely carefully as he ingests the meatloaf paste._

 _Gomez closes his mouth enough to take in the majority of what's on the spoon, and after three or four seconds, a little bit of sweat forms from the concentration required for him to swallow the spoonful of soft food, but he eventually focuses the muscles that allow him to swallow enough that they do the job required. Gomez gulps down the first spoonful. Morticia beams at him, wiping his mouth and squeezing his shoulder._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _mon_ _cher_ , you're getting better every day.

 _Gomez's eyes go wide, and Morticia, seeing this, realizes she spoke French. She kisses his forehead immediately._

 _She readies the next spoon, and gives Gomez a second to refocus, before bringing it up to his mouth to allow him to take the second spoonful. He takes the spoonful, and with still only partial control of his swallowing mechanism, tries to swallow too early, before it even reaches the back of his mouth. The spoonful of paste slides down his throat before he even has time to taste it or get it into a good enough position in his mouth to swallow it properly. His eyes go wide again, but he hasn't choked, it all just happened far too quickly. He wishes he could clear his throat._

 **Morticia**

There, there, Gomez. You just went a tad too early, but no harm, no foul, my dear.

 _She rubs his shoulder and the top of his back, before wiping his mouth again._

 **Morticia**

You're very brave, to show this vulnerability in front of the children, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Take nothing for granted, kids! It could happen to you some day.

 **Morticia**

Your father _is_ right, darlings.

 **Gomez**

And there's no shame in it. None whatsoever!

 **Morticia**

It takes courage to accept help. Especially help as intimate as the type your father needs. But look - see how dignified he remains, even in his hour of infirmity.

 **Fester**

Been more than an hour at this point, Morticia.

 **Morticia**

Fester! It's an expression. I'm well aware how long it's been.

 **Lurch**

110 days and counting.

 **Gomez**

Though, my dear – it feels like an _eternity_ since I last held you in my arms!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling. You held me last night in bed as we slept, do you not recall?

 **Gomez**

That was different, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

I suppose you're right.

 **Gomez**

Though it _was_ so romantic, Tish…

 **Morticia**

My positioning your arms into one of your holding me took nothing from the experience. It was as if it was any other night before you became sick.

 **Gomez**

Let's do it again tonight. I miss being your protector!

 **Morticia**

Oh, but you still are. Here, here's another spoonful.

 _Morticia brings another spoon to Gomez's mouth. He takes his time this time around, and carefully ingests the pasty concoction, slowly swallowing it after three or four seconds of concentration. After every spoonful, Morticia wipes his mouth._

 **Morticia**

You are such a _valiant_ protector, Gomez. A knight in shining armour. Though not the wicked, dragon-killing kind, of course.

 **Gomez**

Of course not. Those make my blood boil.

 **Morticia**

And your chair, my darling, is both your noble steed and the shining armour itself.

 **Gomez** _(impressed by the aptness of the comparison)_

Astutely noticed, my sweet!

 **Morticia**

And _you…_ you protect me from...

 _Morticia thinks about it as she brings another spoonful to Gomez's mouth. As he carefully takes it in his mouth, trying desperately not to swallow too soon or choke, he manages to focus hard again, and take the spoonful with ease with another 3 or 4 seconds of concentration._

 **Morticia**

You protect me from the ravages your disease has wrought, Gomez. If I were to think too hard on the unfairness of how significantly you have fought versus how much you have lost and have yet to regain, it would destroy me. My heart often breaks just thinking about it. But before it can affect me too much, I see you, the same noble Gomez as ever before, taking it in your proverbial stride, and I cannot help but think instead of how much I treasure you.

 _Gomez is genuinely moved to tears by this unexpectedly deep response. He legitimately wells up as he immediately looks to his computer to answer her._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia...!_ You are a poet! _No_ , a _wordsmith_! Look, your words have moved me to tears, my dear!

 **Morticia**

Oh, _bubeleh..._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_ That word! You know it drives me _wild_.

 **Morticia**

Oh, don't I, dear Gomez?

 _She strokes his cheek again, kisses him on the forehead, and then wipes his eyes clean of tears. His eyeliner is running._

 **Morticia**

My darling, you have such a tender soul. You wear your heart on your sleeve so nobly.

 **Gomez** _(tickled by that image)_

Tish - what a thought!

 **Fester**

Could you two shut it? I'm trying to digest over here.

 **Wednesday**

Manners, Fester!

 **Fester**

I tell ya, I'm startin' to think I preferred it when you were vegetating upstairs, Gomez.

 **Morticia**

Fester! How could you say such a thing?

 **Fester**

I was getting used to dinners without havin' ta hear this lovey-dovey talk. "Cara mia" this, "bubeleh" that... whatever happened ta givin' a man some peace and quiet while he eats?

 **Gomez**

 _Bubeleh_... that word. Even when he says it...!

 _Morticia kisses Gomez's forehead again._

 **Morticia**

Now, Fester, we mustn't tease dear Gomez...

 **Fester**

I'll tease him if I wanna!

 _Morticia brings another spoonful of the meatloaf to Gomez's mouth and watches as Gomez, yet again, manages, without a hitch, to ingest the spoonful and after a few seconds of concentration swallow it. Morticia, as per, wipes Gomez's forehead clear of sweat and with another tissue, wipes Gomez's mouth clean of any residue from eating the meatloaf-paste-concoction._

 **Pugsley**

How much longer will you have to feed him like that, mother?

 _Morticia turns around to face her son._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Pugsley. There's really no good way of knowing. Your father is recovering at his own pace.

 **Pugsley**

Can't he speed it up?

 **Morticia**

Pugsley, _please_.

 **Gomez**

I would if I could, young man!

 **Morticia**

But your father has always been immuno-compromised and prone to illness, which can complicate things.

 **Pugsley**

Will he still be able to come with us to Death Valley in the summer?

 _Morticia looks at Gomez, having not even considered this - they booked the trip so long ago that it had been overshadowed by the events of the last few months._

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, whether it's on wheels, a walker, crutches or feet, I _will_ bring you caving in that glorious place, you have my word, Addams man to Addams man!

 **Pugsley**

But how can you go caving in a wheelchair, father?

 **Gomez**

If it comes to that, we'll find a way, my boy!

 **Pugsley**

Yay! Thank you, father.

 **Morticia**

Ah, Gomez. You could be the first ventilator-dependent quadriplegic to navigate the underground caves of Death Valley. Wouldn't that be something?

 **Gomez**

When you put it that way, cara mia, an achievement of that sort _does_ sound enticing. But I'd much rather be well!

 **Pugsley**

You wouldn't need an oxygen tank if you're on a ventilator, father!

 _Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

Why, Pugsley - you _do_ have a point.

 _He thinks about it for a second, and dismisses the thought again._

 **Gomez**

Nonsense - I'd still much rather be well. I can be the first _former_ ventilator-dependent quadriplegic to navigate the underground caves of Death Valley!

 **Pugsley**

Doesn't have the same ring to it, but that's okay.

 **Gomez**

Whatever state I'm in, son, I will be there! That's a promise. And we Addamses don't break promises lightly.

 _Pugsley smiles at his father, who smiles his awkward open-mouthed smile back._

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, take my hand.

 _Pugsley scampers over and takes his father's hand._

 **Gomez**

Cross my heart with it.

 _Pugsley does as he's told, gleefully maneuvering his father's hand to make the "cross my heart" gesture over his chest with it._

 **Pugsley**

Now you can't take it back!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, let's finish your meal now. You're doing excellently.

 **Fester**

Say, with all your medical emergencies, I forgot all about Death Valley. Might skip it if we're gonna be near Sedona at any point, though.

 **Morticia**

Why's that, Fester? Sedona is a beautiful town.

 **Fester**

Got a penpal there. Missy.

 **Morticia**

Well, what's the harm in that? We could meet her!

 **Fester**

Nah, I met her on Plenty of Fish and I didn't use my own picture.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Fester, again? Whose did you use this time?

 **Gomez**

Cary Grant?

 **Fester**

 _Cary Grant?!_ I look about as dead as he does! No, Channing Tatum.

 **Morticia**

Ah. I see. Well, you can stay in the car while we tour Sedona, if you really want to.

 **Fester**

Thanks, Morticia. I couldn't stand to face her if I saw her.

 **Morticia**

How do you know she isn't using a false picture too?

 _Fester thinks about it, before rooting his busted up phone out of his coat pocket and brandishing the profile in Morticia and Gomez's direction. The picture is very clearly of Kim Kardashian, but neither Morticia nor Gomez know who this is, and so they both assume it to be a real picture. Morticia gasps._

 **Gomez**

Fester, you dog – she's a knockout!

 **Morticia**

Dear me! Yes, well I understand now. Maybe we ought to cut Sedona from our excursion altogether. You and I can visit the vortexes next year, for our anniversary.

 **Gomez**

Sounds bewitching, my dear.

 _The two exchange a lovey-dovey look and Fester groans._

 **Fester**

Does it ever end? I give up. I'm gonna eat outside in the swamp. You two are too much.

 _Fester gets up, and huffs out of the room, grabbing another slice of meatloaf before he vanishes into the swamp._

 **Morticia**

Dear me, he _is_ in a mood today.

 **Gomez**

But cara, _of course he is!_ Tonight is a full moon!

 **Morticia**

That'll do it for dear Uncle Fester, won't it?

 _Morticia scoops up the last spoon of meatloaf paste and brings it up to Gomez's mouth._

 **Morticia**

One last spoonful, darling. You have been masterful.

 _Gomez carefully takes the spoonful in his mouth, concentrates, and swallows as he had done before. Morticia smiles as she clean Gomez's forehead of sweat and his mouth of food residue/drool, and strokes his cheek as a sort of congratulations/reward for how well he did._

 **Morticia**

Ah, Gomez. I have so missed our dining together.

 **Gomez**

As have I, cara bella. Your culinary prowess is unmatched!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling.

 _Morticia pulls back the blanket covering Gomez's hands on the armrest, and takes his left_

 _hand._

 **Morticia**

Could you taste the new spice I used, mon cher?

 _Gomez smiles back at his wife, looking down at his hand in hers. The use of "mon cher" drives him wild._

 **Gomez**

Why, of course, querida! How could I not? Never have I tasted gunpowder so potent, so flavourful, so exquisite!

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's hand, massaging it, beaming._

 **Morticia**

I used it especially for you, my dear. I was told that having a tube in your throat dulls your ability to taste.

 **Gomez**

Cara, you're so thoughtful. You wanted to use something so strong, there's no way I wouldn't taste it!

 **Morticia**

 _Exactement, bubeleh_...

 _Gomez is driven so wild, he wants to explode. Unable to even phrase it, he simply types "!" into his text-to-speech programme. Morticia keeps stroking his hand, smiling coyly._

 **Morticia**

Later, Gomez, later...

 _Morticia then realizes – she usually says "later" on instinct, given that there's always so much going on in the Addams household. But this is one of those rare occasions when there's no good reason to move any passionate gestures of love to later. Now is the perfect time._

 **Morticia**

Actually… children, you're excused. Lurch, bring them upstairs.

 **Gomez**

Run along now!

 _Lurch nods._

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs. Addams.

 _Lurch begins to lead Wednesday and Pugsley out of the room._

 **Wednesday**

Bye, father!

 **Pugsley**

Hope you liked my present!

 **Morticia**

And?

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

We love you!

 **Gomez**

Thank you, children.

 **Morticia**

Be good, my treasures.

 _Lurch leads them out of the door, leaving Morticia and Gomez alone together, once again._

 **Gomez**

Now – where were we?

 **Morticia**

Ah.

 _Morticia smiles her familiar, coy smile._

 **Morticia**

I believe I had _just_ called you… _bubeleh._


	33. Day 118

_Morticia has just wheeled Gomez to a bus stop. They have just finished up in their inter-abled couples dancing class. Gomez looks tired – the bags under his eyes are even more pronounced than ever. She's scrolling awkwardly through an app on her phone (holding the phone at arm's length because she's an old soul despite being in her thirties) and looking to see when the next bus is to arrive._

 **Morticia**

The bus should be here any moment now, my dear.

 _Morticia turns to look back at Gomez, and tuts. She notices he's still just wearing his suit, no blankets, no scarves or coats, even though it's night time by now._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? Are you cold? Darling, you must tell me if you're cold, or else I can't warm you.

 _She looks back at her phone, the app has finished loading._

 **Morticia**

Aha. Three and a half minutes until the next one.

 _She smiles at her husband._

 **Morticia**

Now, dear, let me prepare a nice, warm blanket for you. We can't have you contracting another bout of pneumonia under any circumstances. It would be catastrophic. Last year was bad enough, and that was when you were still well.

 _Morticia takes a blanket out of a pouch on the back of the powerchair. She takes a few moments to air it out, and then drapes it over her husband. The blanket is quite large, and covers him from just below his shoulders all the way down his chest, across his lap, and finishing right above his shoes._

 **Morticia**

Now, is that alright, Gomez, dear? Are you warm enough?

 _Gomez nods and smiles his awkward smile._

 **Morticia**

Good. I couldn't stand to be married to a cold husband.

 _She coyly grins at her silly joke, to which Gomez does a jerking, seizing, convulsing seeming motion as his mouth widens – to an outsider he might look like he was in pain, but Morticia knows that's him laughing. No one else in the world would find her joke that funny._

 **Gomez**

By George, querida mia! You got me with that one! It's just lucky I'm hot blooded.

 **Morticia**

My hot blooded Castilian.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez backwards a bit. She wheels him next to the far left side of the bench, where she takes a seat herself. The two sit beside one another. She gets comfortable, and places her hand under the blanket, taking his hand in hers._

 **Morticia**

You _were_ wonderful tonight, cavaliero mio.

 **Gomez**

Tish, it was exhilarating.

 **Morticia**

You were so noble. You commanded your wheelchair like a king commands his throne.

 **Gomez**

And you, cara mia – you danced with such poise, such grace.

 **Morticia**

And you glided across that dancefloor so smoothly.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, querida. it was probably down to my wheels.

 _Morticia squeezes his hand, and rubs it with her thumb a few times, knowing that though he can't really move it, he can feel it. Morticia knows that for Gomez, having parts of his inert body moved must be a huge relief. She decides to test him._

 **Morticia**

Could you try to squeeze me back, darling?

 **Gomez**

I can try.

 **Morticia**

Yes, dear, do try. I want to see if there's been much progress.

 _Gomez nods to her, deciding "why not"._

 **Gomez**

Alright, let's see…

 _Gomez tries to go all out and use the tiny amount of movement he has in the fingers of his right hand to squeeze his wife's hand back. The force he exerts is overwhelming and he can feel himself starting to sweat from the concentration, and this piled on top of the workout that dancing was – he didn't move any part of his body, but had dance instructors by his side at all times, manipulating his limbs, especially his arms, to help him lead a very basic tango from a powerchair. He's exhausted._

 _On Morticia's end, she does feel Gomez's fingers slightly shift over her hand, moving a little bit, though not really exerting any force – and definitively not a squeeze. Still, this reminds Morticia that her husband's fingers aren't dead weights anymore. This genuinely does fill her with joy._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez, darling._

 _She smiles coyly at him, petting his cheek._

 **Morticia**

You are so masterful.

 **Gomez**

Tish!

 **Morticia**

What?

 **Gomez**

When you pet my cheek like that…

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling. No disease can dull your inner fire.

 _She is feeling exceedingly romantic after the intimate dance lesson. More romantic than usual, and that's a feat in and of itself. She shifts in her seat, and very carefully takes Gomez's head, cradling it in her hand, and slowly eases his head to the side so that his face is turned to be looking her in the eyes, as opposed to his computer screen. Then, with her other hand, she very gently places it under Gomez's chin and raises it, closing Gomez's mouth temporarily. She leans in, and kisses him on the lips. When she does this, Gomez is surprised, and so doesn't have a super long time to process what's happening enough for him to be able to focus on kissing her back. Eventually, he does quickly try to scramble to tell his brain to tell his lips to reciprocate, but his brain doesn't exactly completely listen to his lips yet. Still, he manages to reciprocate a weak response kiss. This doesn't seem to deter Morticia, who is impressed by Gomez's quick thinking. His reflexes are very slowly, but surely, returning._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my dear. You look dashing in this moonlight.

 **Gomez**

I do?

 **Morticia**

Maybe some more moon might be good for you.

 _Gomez agrees, having just realized how pleasant it is to feel the moonlight on his skin._

 **Gomez**

Of course! Trust you and your nurse's intuition to know what's best for me.

 **Morticia**

I do try.

 _Morticia checks the app, and there's still a minute before the bus is to arrive. She scans Gomez up and down to make sure that if there's something else he needs, she can identify it. She notices his sweating._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, you're sweating quite heavily.

 **Gomez** _(a little bothered by a specific droplet of sweat that's hanging precariously off his eyebrow and threatening to get into his eye)_

Yes, I've noticed.

 **Morticia**

Let me wipe that down, my darling.

 _Morticia produces a towel from the pouch on the back of the powerchair, and gently dabs at Gomez's forehead and face. While she's at it, she also reaches into the back pouch and pulls out the portable suction machine._

 **Morticia**

We may as well.

 _She turns it on, and places it into Gomez's mouth, cleaning and sucking the saliva out of Gomez's mouth to prevent him from drooling, or much worse, choking on his own saliva as he's still not a strong swallower, especially under unexpected circumstances as choking would be._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara.

 **Morticia**

Thank _you_ for being the model patient.

 _This makes Gomez do his newfound, awkward, open-mouthed version of his regular smile. His self esteem has taken a knock since his illness – he has mainly good self-esteem days, but never a day passes without a brief thought of him feeling sorry for himself, or him thinking demeaning things about himself – Morticia wants to ensure he never gets too down. All this happens while Morticia puts away the medical equipment she'd just used._

 _Before either can respond, though, the bus pulls up, and Morticia signals for it to stop._

 _It does, and she watches expectantly as she waits for the driver to lower the wheelchair ramp. He does, after a few seconds longer than she might have been fine with._

 **Bus Driver**

Where to?

 **Morticia**

Cemetery Lane.

 **Bus Driver**

2.50.

 _Gomez, using the eyegaze powered program that allows him to drive his chair, drives his chair forward and up onto the ramp as Morticia searches for the cash._

 **Morticia**

How much did you say again?

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, cara, take my 250!

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes - a very sweet thought, darling.

 _She turns to the driver, a stack of paper money in her hands, looking back at her husband._

 **Morticia**

Ah, my Gomez, forever the generous one. Here you are, sir.

 _Morticia hands the bus driver 250 dollars, and then Morticia takes over wheeling Gomez into the disabled section of the bus, where she locks his wheels and sits opposite him. Neither stay long enough for him to see their reaction._

 _When the bus has dropped them off on Cemetery Lane, and they make the short journey down the road and back to their house. Morticia wheels Gomez down the street._

 **Morticia**

I do wish they'd chosen a faster dance for us, darling.

 **Gomez**

The one they gave us was rather slow.

 **Morticia**

I believe they underestimated us, Gomez. Or that they don't think we're ready for a return to our nightly, high-octane routines.

 **Gomez**

Don't they know we've got years of experience?

 **Morticia** _(a tad wistful)_

It _was_ romantic, though.

 **Gomez**

Oh, without a doubt, querida mia! Just slightly conservative, that's all.

 **Morticia**

I believe I could wheel you at a much faster pace than they thought I could. They said to be careful with you. I couldn't be more careful! Could I?

 **Gomez**

What nonsense - of course not! Why, Morticia, you're the strongest woman I know!

 _A brief pause._

 **Gomez**

Or man, now that I think of it.

 **Morticia**

Dear, you're too kind.

 _She squeezes his shoulder as she wheels him along. Gomez gets a spark of inspiration._

 **Gomez**

Tish – a thought has struck me!

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 **Gomez**

Let's dance tonight - in the security of our own home – free from the suffocating judgment of those dance instructors – no song too fast!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, that sounds wonderful – you won't be too tired?

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, querida. Not after my Red Bull coffee!

 **Morticia**

Of course! Gomez, we must. That lesson was a mere shadow of the real thing. And with Lurch accompanying us on the harpsichord…

 **Gomez**

Sounds perfect, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

 _You_ are perfect, my dear.

 **Gomez** _(unable to hide his smile – he is flattered and bashful at these words - Morticia is an expert at keeping his self-esteem up when he's in this fragile physical state of being. She wouldn't want him fragile mentally too.)_

Tish, you don't have to go that far.

 **Morticia**

Oh, but I will.

 _They have arrived at the front gates to the house, which open for them. Gomez is still smiling at what Morticia had to say. Morticia and Gomez enter through, and she lets him drive his powerchair into the house with his eyegaze system._

 _As soon as they enter, Morticia rings the noose to call Lurch._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Yes, Lurch. Mr Addams and I have just returned from our dance lesson, and felt the music and routines a bit too basic for our liking, though the romance was palpable. We wish to recreate this magical moment, but at home, where we can dance as frenetically as we desire. Could you accompany us on the harpsichord?

 **Lurch**

How?

 **Morticia**

How what?

 **Lurch**

Does he dance?

 **Gomez**

 _How_ do I dance?

 _Lurch groans in the affirmative._

 **Gomez**

Simple, old boy! I don't!

 **Morticia**

I must admit, I do a lot of the work for him.

 _Lurch groans again, thanking them for the clarification._

 **Gomez** _(alight with passion when talking about his wife's prowess)_

And you do it so effortlessly, my dear. You manipulate and manoeuvre me like I am some fantastical puppet! - and you, my elegant puppet-master!

 **Morticia** _(completely flattered)_

 _Darling_ , what a thing to say.

 _She squeezes his shoulder again._

 **Morticia**

So, Lurch?

 **Gomez**

How about it, old man?

 **Lurch**

Very well.

 _Lurch goes over to the harpsichord, and takes a seat. He knocks on Thing's box, and Thing emerges._

 **Lurch**

Three handed piece.

 _Thing nods affirmatively, and the three of them prepare to play._

 _Morticia wheels Gomez into the middle of the floor, and stands opposite him, her hand outstretched to take his when the music begins._

 _Then, all of a sudden, Lurch and Thing begin to play an extremely fast, very Addams-esque, and extremely bizarre song._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Lurch, dear – such beautiful music.

 _Lurch nods and groans._

 **Lurch**

Sing along if you know the words.

 _Morticia and Gomez begin their "dance" – which is an extremely fast tango to the relatively inappropriate music for tangoing, on top of the fact that Morticia is literally doing all the work for both Gomez and her own part of the dance. Still, it's completely romantic in a very Addams kind of way, the two locking eyes with each other consistently throughout the whole dance. It's the perfect way to end their evening out – dancing on their own terms._

 _AN: Bonus points – the song I'd envision it to be would 100% be this relatively new song called "Haunt, the Cartoon Heart" by a band called Bear Ghost. Even better, if you can imagine verse/pre-chorus/chorus #1 coming from Gomez's perspective and inner thoughts, and verse/pre-chorus/chorus #2 coming from Morticia's perspective/inner thoughts, and even imagine she sings it aloud to him, that would be very cute indeed. It's on YouTube and Spotify but I can't link anything on here so I'm not even gonna try, whelp._


	34. Day 121

**_AN:_** _I just wanted to write sassy Gomez for a chapter so that's why this exists lol_

 _Morticia, Gomez, Fester and Dr Harvey are in the mall. Harvey has brought them all there as so to do some occupational therapy work with Gomez and family. Harvey, Fester and Morticia sit on a bench, with Gomez beside them._

 **Fester**

So what's all this about, Harv?

 _A weird silence._

 **Fester**

Can't call ya Harv, can I?

 **Harvey**

Occupational therapy, Mr and Mrs Addams. I'm sure you know what that is.

 **Fester**

What?! _Occupation_ \- ? Ya want Gomez to _get a job?_

 **Harvey**

No, Uncle Fester, not at all. We call it occupational therapy, as we want to conduct activities that will keep Mr Addams occupied. Get him out of the house some more. Make him as independent as we can make him.

 **Fester**

On the other hand, maybe a job's not such a bad idea.

 **Harvey**

Fester, _please_ – so. Here's what we would like you to do, Gomez.

 _Gomez nods, showing he's listening._

 **Harvey**

You can swallow.

 **Gomez**

Say no more!

 _Gomez demonstrates swallowing air. Not that Harvey can really tell, but Gomez certainly doesn't choke on it, so he deems that a success. Harvey nods, taking this information in._

 **Harvey**

Well, it appears you can indeed.

 **Gomez**

And never more grateful for it!

 _Morticia smiles gushingly at Gomez, as in love with him as ever._

 **Morticia**

He has done _so well_ these past few weeks.

 _Gomez looks down a little, smiling unassumingly._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara mia.

 **Harvey**

So, here's what I want you to do, then.

 _Harvey points at a certain coffee shop chain with a green logo._

 **Harvey**

I want you to go in there and order anything you want.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Sounds simple enough!

 **Harvey**

 _By yourself._

 _Gomez stops nodding, and his eyes widen a little bit._

 **Gomez**

By George! Without Tish?

 **Harvey**

Without anyone but yourself.

 **Morticia**

It's important, darling, for you to be independent, and do these things on your own.

 _Gomez weakly shakes his head, a smidge dumbfounded._

 **Gomez**

But how will I take it?

 **Harvey**

Gomez – _this_ is why we're here. You have rights. You have the right to assistance and accommodations. The employees will help you, it's their job. What you need to do is go in, order the drink. Then, ask an employee for help placing the coffee in the drink holder. And then, ask for help placing a straw in the drink, and then in your mouth for you to suck on. And of course, you'll need their help paying as well. Your job is to instigate this all yourself, Gomez – you need to be assertive.

 **Gomez**

But Harvey – I don't believe I have an assertive bone in my body!

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, Gomez – you can be when you need to be.

 **Fester**

Remember when ya dumped Ophelia?

 **Harvey**

So, are you up for it?

 _Gomez figures "may as well give it a try", and decides in favour of doing it._

 **Gomez**

I suppose I am.

 **Harvey**

Wonderful. Right – Mrs Addams and Uncle Fester will be waiting with me right outside.

 **Fester**

Godspeed, Gomez!

 _Harvey claps Gomez on the back._

 _Gomez opens up the eye-gaze driving system on his computer, and using his eyes alone, drives himself to the open door of the coffee shop. He tentatively edges ahead, powering the chair forward in short bursts before he finally rolls through._

 _Immediately, he decides to order a black coffee, even though the doctors have straight up told him it's terrible for his digestion and ought to be avoided if possible. He drives himself up to the counter, and immediately begins to compose via the eye-gaze system what he wants to say._

 _An employee stands at the counter, looking like he hates his job. When he sees a debonair, suited goth man in a powerchair, with three tubes visibly poking out of him, and a computer to communicate, he thinks this can only lead to trouble._

 _This store doesn't want to violate safety protocols, and give hot coffee to someone who might not even be able to drink it, or even have hot coffee around someone like this man, who is particularly vulnerable. But, on the other side of things, the goth guy has every right to make the order – though, even if after listening to him and following his commands, there's still an accident, it remains the shop's fault._

 _The employee wonders if he's a secret shopper designed to test this exact scenario, and approaches the man with suspicion._

 **Employee**

Yes, sir, can I help you?

 **Gomez**

One large black coffee, please.

 _The employee laughs, as if Gomez has just told a joke._

 **Employee**

 _Right_.

 _Gomez nods, eyes widening, as the employee turns around, ignoring him, and beginning scrubbing a dish in the sink behind him._

 **Gomez**

Right!

 _The employee slowly turns around, and sees Gomez still there, waiting expectantly._

 **Employee**

Wait, you actually want it?

 **Gomez**

Naturally.

 _The employee sighs, shrugging._

 **Employee**

That'll be three dollars, then.

 **Gomez**

Capital – now, I hate to ask you to go out of your way for me, though you see, old boy, I can't move my arms - but you can find my wallet in my front pocket.

 _The employee looks very disgruntled and paranoid. He leans over the counter, removing Gomez's wallet from his front pocket and leafing through the huge denominations of notes that he sees inside._

 **Gomez**

Feel free to help yourself to a tip, while you're at it, old man!

 _The employee takes three dollars from the wallet, and takes a further 20 as a tip._

 **Gomez**

My, quite the humble one, eh? Each man to his own, I suppose.

 _The employee begins pouring the coffee, filling up a paper cup about three quarters of the way._

 **Employee**

So. Are you buying for… someone else?

 **Gomez**

Preposterous! I'm buying for myself today.

 **Employee**

Right, well, guess I can't pretend to know your motives.

 **Gomez**

Please, I simply want my daily, rejuvenating boost of caffeine!

 **Employee**

Did someone put you up to this?

 **Gomez**

Well, yes – but it isn't what you might think.

 **Employee**

Lovely – at least you're honest. You came in to make us look bad.

 **Gomez**

Great Scott, not in the slightest, old man/

 **Employee**

/You thought we wouldn't make you coffee, because of the health risk/

 **Gomez**

Great jumping catfish! Slander and defamation for want of a simple coffee.

 _The employee holds the coffee up._

 **Employee**

So, wise guy, it's done. What am I meant to do with it now?

 **Gomez**

Well, I'd think handing it to me might be the next step.

 **Employee**

You _just_ said you can't move your arms.

 **Gomez**

Well, there is a cup holder to the right of my head, if you look closely.

 **Employee**

You expect me to put it in there?

 **Gomez**

I do.

 **Employee**

I'm sorry but is that a feeding tube poking out of your shirt?

 **Gomez**

Certainly.

 **Employee**

Then why, dare I ask, are you buying coffee? To _drink_?

 **Gomez**

Sir, I appeal to you – I can take food and liquids by mouth. Let me drink.

 **Employee**

Then why is there a tube right there?

 **Gomez**

For medicinal purposes.

 **Employee**

Right. Fine then.

 _The employee takes the cup, and puts it in the cup holder, reaching across the counter as he does so. The cup holder is close to Gomez's head but not in a position where he'd ever be able to drink out of it by mouth. It just sits there untouched in the cup holder._

 **Employee**

Happy now? Pointless, right?

 **Gomez**

On the contrary – if you will, I would appreciate a straw!

 **Employee**

 _Coffee with a straw._

 **Gomez**

Well how else do you expect me to drink it?

 **Employee**

Holy shit, man, I –

 **Gomez**

 _Keep a civil tongue, sir!_ I'm just inquiring. As a disabled citizen of these United States, to deny these requests is a breach of my human rights.

 **Employee**

You're crazy.

 **Gomez**

Thank you. Knew you couldn't be all be warped!

 **Employee**

No comment.

 **Gomez**

So, old man, the straw?

 _Disgruntled, the employee pulls out a straw, and again, leans over the counter, shoving the straw in the coffee. The employee leans back._

 _Gomez is open-mouthedly scowling, having lost all faith in this employee._

 **Gomez**

Excuse me?

 **Employee**

Yes?

 **Gomez**

Could you help place the straw in my mouth?

 **Employee**

You're pushing it. You're really, really pushing it.

 **Gomez**

Funny, it's mostly others pushing me these days!

 **Employee**

Don't get smart on me with your computer voice, thinking it makes you _so smart_ , like Stephen Hawking or something.

 **Gomez**

Ah, the late great master of this look. Alas, I can only seek to emulate him.

 **Employee**

Enough. Ask your carer to put it in your mouth. I'm busy.

 **Gomez**

An audacious assumption, old boy!

 **Employee**

What?

 **Gomez**

To assume I have a carer.

 **Employee**

Well, I can't imagine you don't. Don't you?

 **Gomez**

Well, yes I do - but that's beside the point. Assuming won't get you anywhere.

 **Employee**

I'm not putting my hand in your mouth.

 **Gomez**

Great Scott, I don't know what variety of straw insertion you're imagining, but I must admit, it does sound intriguing. When I'm feeling better, maybe.

 **Employee**

 _Get. Your. Carer. To. Do. It._

 **Gomez**

Sir, I lead an independent life unencumbered by my disabilities – my _wife_ need not accompany me everywhere I go!

 **Employee**

Well, she's pretty careless, then.

 _Gomez is genuinely incensed. One thing to make fun of him, but to speak about his wife like this is another kettle of fish altogether. Gomez attempts to threateningly drive the powerchair forward._

 **Gomez**

You _scoundrel_! How dare you slander my wife's honour? While she isn't even here to defend herself?

 **Employee**

Should I imagine you saying that threateningly?

 **Gomez** _(nodding)_

Yes, thank you.

 **Employee**

Right, well – I'm not threatened.

 **Gomez**

Zounds! It's a simple procedure, sir – just put the straw in my mouth! I'll help as best I can!

 **Employee**

Lacey?

 _Another employee is walking by._

 **Employee**

Please put that straw into our customer's mouth.

 _Lacey just stands there, a bit dumbstruck, before slowly and tentatively reaching out her hand to the straw, and twisting it into Gomez's open mouth. His mouth closes a little when she pokes it in, his attempting to close it around the straw. Gomez looks incredibly satisfied. The employee looks furious._

 **Gomez**

Ah – wonderful! Thank you, both of you. Greatly appreciated! Now, if you don't mind, my wife needs me.

 _Gomez, smirking, spins his powerchair around with a flourish, and drives himself out of the open door. As he leaves, the employee calls after him._

 **Employee**

Literally what does she need you for?

 **Gomez**

All matters! Conversation, parenting, belonging, esteem, love, passion, self-actualization – the entire gamut of Maslow's hierarchy!

 **Employee**

Please don't come back if you're going to be like this!

 **Gomez**

No promises, old man!

 _And then, Gomez is so far away from the door that the employee just sort of gives up. He looks at Lacey, his co-worker, and she shrugs, a little peeved by her colleague's behaviour herself._


	35. Day 128

_Gomez lays in bed, but the covers are pulled off. Morticia is positioning his hands and feet symmetrically, though she places small pillows under Gomez's arms and hands to give them some elevation, to better increase blood flow to them._

 _Gomez is wearing his pyjama pants and nothing else, and is therefore shirtless. Morticia examines the feeding tube thoroughly as she doesn't want to disappoint their guest, Dr Thoms, a digestion specialist._

 _She looks immaculately dressed - she took the time to do herself up while Grandmama looked after Gomez earlier. Now, however, she runs a comb through her husband's hair, cleaning it up a bit. She also gently combs his moustache. She takes a step back, and surveys him._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling,_ you look so debonair.

 _Gomez's awkward, open mouthed half-smile comes back. Ever since the smallest vestige of a smile was once again possible for him, he hasn't been able to stop._

 **Gomez** _(happy to look good, happy to be complimented, happy to simply be looking at Tish - he remembers when he couldn't even open his eyes)_

 _Querida_ …

 **Morticia**

So becoming. You repose with such dignity.

 **Gomez** _(humble)_

Thanks to you, _cara mia!_

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, Gomez. I merely do what I can to capture both your inner _and_ outer beauty.

 _Gomez can't stop himself grinning now. He is so in love with her that his affection is infectious._

 **Gomez**

That compassion, Tish – it's boundless! It beguiles me…

 _Morticia glides to the bed, and strokes his cheek. They look into each other's eyes lovingly as Morticia does this._

 **Gomez** _(were he able to breathe, he'd be breathless)_

It drives me wild…

 **Morticia**

Oh, what a blessing it is to have you as my husband, Gomez. Though your speech has been taken away from you, you still find so many ways to express your love...

 **Gomez**

And what a privilege it is to have you, Tish. The most caring, resilient, and exquisitely beautiful of all nurses!

 **Morticia**

To care for you is my vocation, darling.

 **Gomez**

I would have thought the sight of me in this state would be too shocking - but Tish! You have not yet bowed your head once to this ruthless disease!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, I long to hear those words in your true voice.

 **Gomez**

Soon, cara.

 **Morticia**

You look the picture of health, Gomez - if not for the obvious. The doctor will be here shortly to assess you, I'm sure he'll be very impressed.

 **Gomez**

He will, my dear, he will! You've worked that magic yet again!

 _There's a knock on the door._

 **Morticia**

Ah, that must be him now.

 _Lurch is standing there with Thoms._

 **Lurch**

Dr Thoms.

 **Morticia**

Ah, doctor, welcome. Thank you Lurch, that will be all.

 _Lurch nods, leaves and closes the door._

 **Thoms**

Mr and Mrs Addams?

 **Gomez** / **Morticia**

Yes!

 **Thoms**

Hello, I'm Dr Thoms, I'm here today to assess your husband for the colostomy procedure.

 _He shakes Morticia's hand._

 **Thoms**

Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Correct. Do be gentle with Mr Addams, he's awfully sensitive.

 **Gomez** ( _nodding_ )

She's right, I'm afraid!

 **Morticia**

Pain-wise - he has some problem areas/

 **Gomez**

/My back, in particular/

 **Morticia**

/And on the emotional side of things, my dear Gomez's dignity has really been disturbed. I do everything I can to ensure he maintains his usual level of poise and nobility.

 **Thoms**

Well, you're doing a good job, Mrs Addams. It really can't be easy.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, doctor.

 **Gomez**

Ah, my dear Morticia… the greatest credit of all, a shining, inimitable spectacle of/

 **Thoms**

/Now.

 _Gomez gets the picture and cancels the text being read by the computer voice – he knows when to shut up._

 **Thoms**

We are here to talk about your husband's candidacy for colostomy?

 **Morticia**

Yes, doctor.

 **Thoms**

And why do we think he needs one?

 **Morticia**

Well, we think it could greatly reduce the amount of time spent dealing with his digestive issues.

 **Thoms**

And is that a lot of time?

 **Morticia**

Three times per day, sometimes more. And it can sometimes exceed an hour.

 **Gomez** ( _as if this is obvious_ )

And I'm a busy man, Dr Thoms!

 **Morticia**

That he is – _do not be fooled by his stillness!_ Mr Addams is currently trading stocks using _only his eyes_!

 **Gomez**

And, Consolidated Fuzz is down again!

 _Thoms goes to shake his head, but stops when Morticia speaks._

 **Morticia**

Ah, wonderful, darling.

 _She strokes his hair absentmindedly. Thoms, as is most visitors to the Addams house, is baffled._

 **Thoms**

Yes, well, as I was saying, often times, locked-in patients might need extra help with _completing the process of digestion_ and thus, to simplify both things for the caregiver and the patient, a colostomy is performed. You won't need to perform any routines or feed him supplements that could damage him in other areas.

 _Morticia looks at Gomez, gauging his opinion._

 **Morticia**

It _does_ sound enticing, dear. Managing your digestion _has_ been quite the inconvenience ever since this wretched disease took root.

 _Gomez looks at Tish, turning his head, impressively for him, a few inches. Tish's heart flutters. He gazes into her eyes before looking back to his eyegaze so he can dictate his message to her._

 **Gomez**

 _Zounds_ , Tish! It drives me mad, the hours spent locked in a young lover's embrace that we could have wiled away but for want of my diseased digestion!

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, let's not dwell.

 _Gomez nods, impressing Tish further, and Gomez not wanting to dwell if she would prefer him not to. She is right, after all._

 **Gomez**

You're right, cara mia – we must charge onward, toward future progress! You may perform the surgery immediately if you wish! I am your willing test subject!

 _Thoms is completely overwhelmed by this sudden decision. He's also concerned for Gomez, not knowing anything much about him._

 **Thoms**

Woah woah, slow down. Slow down. We need to make sure of a few things first.

 _Thoms clears his throat_.

 **Thoms**

Mrs Addams, could you step outside with me please?

 _Morticia nods, and rises, stroking Gomez's hand_.

 **Morticia**

One moment, darling, that's all I'll be.

 _Morticia places Gomez's hand back on its pillow, turns, leaves, and goes into the hall with Thoms._

 _Gomez tries to listen but can't really over the steady huff of all the machines sustaining him_.

 **Morticia** ( _a little concerned_ )

Yes, doctor? Is there something you'd rather he didn't hear?

 **Thoms**

Yes, Mrs Addams. Is uh, is Mr. Addams... _all there_...?

 **Morticia**

All where?

 _It dawns on her what Thoms means – or, at least, she thinks it's dawned on her, what he means_.

 **Morticia**

Oh! Well, truthfully not! You see, many years ago, before I ever met him, his mama performed a heart transplant surgery on him, and the dear old thing, she had his old heart embalmed! Then, she gave it to me as a wedding present! Such a thoughtful gesture on her part. So, no. His original heart is not here, it's upstairs.

 **Thoms**

No, no, uh... not what I meant, not what I meant…

 **Morticia**

Yes?

 **Thoms**

I meant...

 **Morticia**

Well, what else could you mean?

 **Thoms**

I mean, mentally. Is he behaving normally? Is this normally how he speaks and behaves? How he spoke and behaved before he got sick?

 **Morticia**

Of course? Why do you ask?

 **Thoms**

No, nothing, I... suppose, he seemed a bit... odd but...

 _Thoms wipes his forehead_.

 **Thoms**

Oh, I don't know. Well, anyway, if what you say is true, he would be a very good candidate for colostomy. No more hours long bowel programmes.

 _Morticia smiles_.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful, he will be so relieved. Though, if I could pose just one question?

 **Thoms**

Why am I dreading this?

 **Morticia**

Oh, you do know how to flatter.

 **Thoms**

I/

 **Morticia**

/Forgive my ignorance, but a colostomy bag can be removed? Yes?

 **Thoms**

Oh, yeah.

 **Morticia**

Not that I would mind caring for a husband with a bag. I imagine I would grow to find it quite becoming on him...

 **Thoms**

No yes, yes of course, it's reversible.

 **Morticia**

Then I say we must go ahead with the procedure!

 **Thoms**

Well, ah, let's just see what the final authority himself has to say to us.

 _They return to the room where Gomez is now online, ordering takeout for the doctor_.

 **Gomez**

Ah, my good man, back in the nick of time! Now, for your burger, do you want Guatemalan insanity pepper or fugu?

 **Thoms**

Huh?

 **Morticia**

Your dinner, doctor! You simply must stay, as a thank you for helping us.

 **Thoms**

Oh, I/

 _Morticia sits beside Gomez in bed, and takes his hand while she tells him what happened_.

 **Morticia**

/Now, darling, Dr Thoms and I are both of the belief that the surgery should go ahead, but the final say is yours.

 **Gomez**

My dear, to have more time to spend with you would mean the world to me.

 **Morticia**

Simply just gazing into each other's eyes…

 **Gomez**

…my limp form safe in your tender embrace..

 **Morticia**

…and _your_ inner strength keeping _me_ safe from falling into despair…

 **Gomez**

…Tish, the thought alone. It drives me wild!

 _Tish swoops in, kissing Gomez's forehead_.

 **Morticia**

Darling, you're so fiery.

 **Gomez** ( _grinning_ )

Must be the moon.

 **Morticia**

But of course…

 _Thoms clears his throat_.

 **Thoms**

So, yes? We're doing this?

 _Gomez and Morticia both snap out of it. Gomez remembers what he's being asked._

 **Gomez**

Certainly, old man! Could you fit me in today?

 **Thoms**

No, Mr Addams, you need to fast.

 **Gomez**

 _Zounds_! Right now I'm no faster than a cactus!

 **Morticia**

I think he means a fast from food, my dear.

 **Gomez** ( _nodding_ )

Oh. Alright. Much more achievable, I'll give you that.

 **Morticia**

But when?

 **Thoms**

Next weekend?

 **Morticia**

Oh, the earlier the better, Gomez.

 **Gomez** ( _grinning, shaking his head because he knows she's right_ )

You're so right, my dear. Gives us more time together…

 **Thoms**

Wonderful. I'll pass the arrangements on to the hospital, then!

 _Thoms gets ready to go, but as soon as he turns to leave, Morticia speaks_.

 **Morticia**

So, will you stay for dinner?

 **Thoms**

I think I'll/

 **Gomez**

/Help yourself some of my yogurt if you don't like insanity pepper, old boy! It _can_ be a little strong to the uninitiated.

 **Morticia**

Good thinking, Gomez.

 **Thoms**

I'm going to be late back at the hospital if I/

 **Gomez**

/Nonsense, old man! Lurch will drive you back after dinner!

 **Thoms** _(not happy about this but too awkward to say no)_

Oh. Thank you.

 **Gomez**

No trouble at all, my good man! You deserve a good old fashioned Addams welcome! And a thank you!

 **Morticia**

For what you're doing for us. For dear Gomez.

 **Thoms**

Well, I'm sure that the surgery will vastly improve his quality of life, and/

 **Morticia**

/Oh, it'll be wonderful to spend the mornings just cuddling again, mon cher.

 _Morticia leans in to kiss Gomez, pecking him on the nose coyly. Gomez can't contain his passion_.

 **Gomez**

Tish… when you kiss my nose like that…

 **Morticia**

You tempestuous man…

 **Gomez**

How can I resist?

 **Morticia**

It's simple, my darling: you don't.

 _The two of them smile wickedly while Thoms would like to bury himself beneath the floorboards_.

 _The doorbell rings_.

 **Morticia**

Ah, that must be the burgers now!

 **Gomez**

Capital!

 _Morticia reluctantly breaks from her embrace with Gomez and summons Lurch, ringing the noose. Thoms almost collapses._

 _Lurch enters, and as Thoms regains footing, when he sees Lurch re-appear, he nearly collapses again._

 _Lurch is holding a takeout bag._

 **Lurch**

Burgers.

 _Lurch hands Morticia the bag. She takes it thankfully_.

 **Thoms**

Is he… your… son?

 **Morticia**

Oh, you doctors _do_ have a sense of humour. No, that's just Lurch.

 **Gomez**

Say hello, old man! Don't be shy, now!

 _Lurch forces a smile, and leaves._

 **Gomez** ( _grinning_ )

Dear old Lurch. Not a better butler out there!

 **Morticia**

But awfully nervous around new faces…

 **Gomez**

Shame, with a winning personality like his, why, he could be an influencer if he wanted!

 **Morticia**

Oh Gomez, you're so right. He has impeccable taste.

 _Morticia takes the burgers out of the bag, and hands one to Thoms._

 **Gomez**

Now, remember, Thoms - holler if you still want that yogurt!

 _Morticia takes out her own burger, and then takes out a milkshake cup with an insanity pepper burger Gomez specifically ordered to be liquefied (with ghost pepper sauce as the liquid base). Morticia places a straw in it. She goes over to the corner of the room, detaches the cup holder from Gomez's wheelchair's back, and brings it over to the bed, where she secures it to the bedpost. She slides the milkshake cup inside of it, and moves it within reach of Gomez's mouth, where she places the straw._

 _He begins to sip – of course, it's nowhere near where he wants to be, eating-wise, but the taste can't be argued with. His eyes go wide as he savours the taste of the insanity pepper._

 _Thoms takes one bite of the insanity burger, and hears spacetime. Screaming, he throws the burger back into the wrapper, flings the wrapper on the bed, forgetting that Gomez is still laying in it, and scrambles out the door._

 _Morticia rises to her feet. Gomez stares, concerned._

 **Gomez**

Thoms, old man? Everything alright?

 **Morticia**

Doctor?! Where are you going so soon?

 **Thoms** _(from outside)_

 _SEE YOU NEXT WEEK, I'M OUT OF HERE._

 _The distant sound of the door slamming is heard._

 _Gomez and Morticia look at each other, perplexed. Gomez takes another loud sip of the liquid burger._

 **Gomez**

A little high-strung.

 **Morticia**

But surely, a surgeon would have to be. With a job that tense, the tiniest mistake could mean life or death!

 **Gomez**

What a thrill!

 **Morticia**

Oh, I do hope the procedure simplifies things, my darling. I hardly get an opportunity to just lie with you these days. Oh, I miss it so.

 **Gomez**

As do I, cara. To be in need of constant maintenance – it crushes my soul! There's never any time left to cuddle as we used to!

 **Morticia**

Soon, my darling. Every morning, we can sleep in together.

 **Gomez**

Ah, cara, the thought alone sets my blood aflame!

 **Morticia**

Are you sure it's not the insanity pepper?

 **Gomez**

Hm. Why can't it be both?

 _The two smile, and Gomez lets the straw eject from his mouth. He rolls his head to the side as far as he can. Morticia, getting the message, leans in, and the two of them kiss on the lips, faces nuzzled beside one another._

Warning - gross endnote below!

 **AN / TL;DR:** "Digestion issues" = I'm talking about shitting. This is all a euphemism for shitting. I don't really want to write a chapter where I scream about shitting for 12 word document pages but it's a question loads of laypeople have about quadriplegia/locked-in syndrome, people are like _HoW Do tHeY sHiT?!_ Well usually it's an incredibly time consuming process that sometimes has to be done twice or three times a day and can take an hour at a time - for this reason some quadriplegics/people with locked-in syndrome/paraplegics too, just go for colostomy which takes away 95% of all the hassle of bowel management. It's what my aunt went with way back when, she still has one, works great, and thus, it's in this story. Sorry to gross you out but THATS WHY I PUT IT AT THE END.


	36. Day 134

_Morticia and Gomez are outside._

 **Gomez**

Tish! My stomach – it screeches, with all the fervour of a hungry eaglet, crying out for worms from its mother!

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's hand, laying on a rickety old deckchair right beside him._

 **Morticia**

My, Gomez. How expressive. But you know, you have to keep fasting.

 **Gomez**

But querida mia, I could eat a wolf!

 **Morticia**

Here, Gomez.

 _Morticia plants a kiss on Gomez's head._

 **Morticia**

Just a few more hours and we'll be ready to go to the hospital. But until then, we need you to get as much moon as we can.

 _It's 5am, the moon is out, and Morticia, Grandmama and Gomez are in the front garden. Grandmama is running around, collecting toadstools. Gomez and Morticia are moonbathing. Morticia is laying beside Gomez, whose powerchair has been maneuvered to go all the way back so that he's almost lying down. Morticia is holding his right hand, moving and manipulating it, finger by finger, along with his wrists and arms too. She's learned these techniques from the physiotherapists. Morticia looks at one of Gomez's fingers._

 **Morticia**

Darling, perhaps your physiotherapist is right.

 **Gomez**

About what?

 **Morticia**

Maybe you _do_ need to try typing with your fingers.

 _Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

But cara mia, I can barely lift them!

 **Morticia**

Now dear, you know you're very capable of heavy lifting.

 _Gomez is incredulous._

 **Gomez**

Even in this wretched state?

 **Morticia**

Well, perhaps not. But you do understand the sentiment, yes?

 _Gomez resolves to try. Tish is right, after all._

 **Gomez**

I do, my dear. Loud and clear. Sharp thinking. Let me try!

 _Gomez looks at Grandmama, who's scampering around in the bushes._

 **Morticia**

Mama, dear, could you get the keyboard from the back of his chair?

 **Grandmama**

Of course, Morticia.

 _She bursts out from a bush, looks at Gomez, and folds her arms._

 **Grandmama**

Gomez, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. You have to learn!

 _Grandmama fishes out the keyboard from the back of the chair, and connects it to the computer. Then, she places both of her son's hands on it, and takes a step back. She reaches in, to turn the eyegaze function completely off, but Morticia stops her._

 **Morticia**

Ah, mama. It might be best to keep the eyegaze on for the time being. We wouldn't want him to feel helpless if something were to go wrong.

 _Grandmama nods, and takes a step back, arms still folded._

 **Grandmama**

Well, son. Show me what you've got to say.

 _Morticia and Grandmama look at Gomez expectantly. Morticia gives him a very encouraging look._

 _Gomez struggles to lift his fingers, but unlike last time, is able to do it a little easier. The physio is paying off. Where before, his fingers just dragged along the keyboard, hitting random keys, he's regained a little more control of them now. He concentrates, hard, on pressing the keys he wants._

 **Gomez** _(having typed it)_

Tish

 **Morticia**

Yes, darling?

 _Gomez focuses extremely intently – something he can't do for long periods of time very well (to show his dedication). He takes forever to finish typing this._

 **Gomez**

You were right

 **Morticia**

Oh, my dear, sweet Gomez.

 _Gomez shakes his head a bit, signifying he isn't done yet._

 _Gomez then inputs a bunch of exclamation marks to highlight his point._

 **Gomez**

!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, always so passionate.

 **Grandmama**

That's my boy! Just like his father.

 _Gomez smiles, but stops suddenly, tired by all the movement he's been doing – these little movements are strenuous and a lot of hard work._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, you're not worried about your surgery later?

 _Gomez, still tired out, nods, but weakly. Morticia goes back over to him, and dabs some of the sweat on his forehead away._

 **Morticia**

I would have thought you'd enjoy a good surgery, my darling!

 _Gomez is so tired by this point, but instead of going back to using his eyes, he perseveres. He's feeling a little on-edge._

 **Gomez**

I do! But not when I actually need one

 **Morticia**

I understand. Cousin Slice hated surgeries for the same reason.

 **Grandmama**

Ironic.

 **Morticia**

He only enjoyed the surgeries he performed on himself. Wouldn't be caught dead with someone else doing the slicing!

 **Gomez**

Until he was

 _Morticia shrugs._

 **Morticia**

That _is_ true, dear – but _you_ won't end up like dear old Slice.

 _Gomez still seems bothered._

 **Gomez**

Don't want to be in hospital

 _The penny drops for Morticia. Gomez doesn't want to be away from the family._

 **Morticia**

Of course! That's what it is. Gomez, we will stay with you every waking – and non-waking – moment! We shall bring home to you!

 **Gomez**

Can't stand being away/

 **Morticia** _(Morticia figures out what Gomez was going to type before he finishes typing)_

From the children?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Can't stand it

 **Morticia**

Dear, I will bring them as often as I can. Children need their father, after all. I couldn't deny them a single moment away from you. Wednesday especially has been so keen to care for you.

 _Gomez still seems bothered._

 **Gomez**

No child should have/

 **Morticia** _(guessing correctly again)_

To take care of their father that way?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

At least not for another 50 years

 **Morticia**

I understand, darling, but she's seeing all your _inner_ strength.

 _Gomez genuinely seems to be upset by what he's typing. He shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

Oh cara mia

 **Morticia**

Yes, darling?

 **Gomez**

I just hope it's enough for her

 **Morticia**

To see your inner strength? Your passion? Your sterling intensity? Your dignity in the face of shocking adversity?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Of course it's enough, my dear, you mustn't be silly, now. You have to be careful not to slip into one of your depressions again. You're far too important to us to be struck down with _two_ illnesses.

 _Gomez manages a smile. His mouth doesn't hang open as much now. His smile looks back to normal, even though when his face goes back to resting, his mouth does fall open the littlest amount. Morticia smiles back._

 **Morticia**

Why, Gomez. There's your smile. Back in all its dazzling glory!

 _Gomez's eyes widen – this genuinely turns his mood around. The typing doesn't allow him to convey this surprise._

 **Gomez**

Really

 **Morticia**

Of course! So charming, so devious, so uniquely _you_.

 _Gomez, empowered by this, concentrates on closing his mouth for her. It is something he's been practicing over the past few days, and he thinks he's making progress in leaps and bounds. He switches to the eyegaze to explain his thoughts, just briefly._

 **Gomez**

Not just that, cara mia! With the utmost concentration, I believe I can keep my mouth closed with 99% certainty!

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 **Grandmama** _(poking her head out of another bush, a toadstool in her mouth)_

How about a demonstration?

 **Gomez**

Say no more!

 _Gomez closes his eyes, concentrates, and closes his slightly open mouth. It's clear that no part of his face is paralyzed anymore – some parts are more functional than others, but he's managed to regain some degree of control over everything at this point._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez! _C'est magnifique!_

 _Gomez goes back to typing, eyes wide at the French._

 **Gomez**

Tish

 _Gomez helplessly tries to signal his burning desire to kiss her. Morticia knows all too well. She leans in, and kisses him on the lips. He kisses back, stronger than ever. She strokes his cheek, grinning coyly. That was the first kiss between them that felt "normal" to Tish and Gomez in months._

 **Morticia**

You tempestuous man…

 **Gomez**

Querida

 **Morticia**

Yes, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

I want to rip this wretched tube from my neck & howl your name from the rooftops

 **Morticia**

Oh, _how romantic_. But Gomez, do remember, without it, you would die.

 **Gomez**

For you I die happily

 **Morticia**

You reckless Castilian.

 **Grandmama** _(head coming out of yet another bush)_

Hate to interrupt, but should we get ready to go? I've just finished gathering toadstools for the broth.

 **Gomez**

Sounds mouthwatering mama

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, let's not regress. You haven't drooled in about a week!

 **Gomez**

Ah yes. Just an expression

 **Morticia**

Of course, dear. You've done so well ever since you started swallowing again. No more drool.

 _Morticia thinks about it._

 **Morticia**

Well, except when you sleep. But some things can't be helped.

 **Grandmama**

So are we going inside or what? I need to see how many flasks my cauldron'll hold! Gomez is gonna be so hungry after the surgery! I just know it!

 **Morticia**

Indeed. Yes, come, Gomez. Let's clean you up before we go.

 _Gomez nods and smiles._

 **Morticia**

And Gomez?

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow._

 **Morticia**

Don't strain yourself typing. Give your hands a break.

 _Gomez nods, and switches back to the eyegaze._

 **Gomez**

Sharp thinking, cara mia! They _were_ starting to ache! And in a rather uninteresting manner, at that!

 **Morticia**

Tut. How inconvenient.

 **Gomez**

Indubitably! It really takes it out of you, my dear! It was a full body exercise, after all!

 **Morticia**

But Gomez, remember – you just used your hands for a full conversation. You have been doing admirably. I can just see the doctors' faces now – blown away by your progress! _And_ your prowess.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Morticia**

Come – let's go inside. You need a shave.

 **Gomez**

 _Onward!_

 _Morticia wheels Gomez back into the house, Grandmama following behind them, picking toadstools as she goes._


	37. Day 141

**_AN:_** _Boy this one turned out long. Let me know if you dig it! Thanks for all the nice reviews I've gotten recently - if any of y'all have any suggestions as to what you might wanna see, I'm very open to giving the people what they want. Anyway, here goes:_

* * *

 _It has been a week now since the colostomy operation was done on Gomez by Dr. Thoms. The surgery went successfully, without a hitch. Dr. Thoms had warned Morticia and family that due to Gomez's weakened state, it might take him longer than most to recover from going under general anaesthetic. Indeed, Dr. Thoms has been proven correct._

 _Over the past few days since the operation, Gomez has shown no sign of rousing, much to Morticia's profound panic. With him essentially comatose, she has tried everything she can possibly think of in order to encourage him out of it. These different attempts include dressing him in one of his white shirts from home, bringing in every single member of the family to talk to him, reading to him, playing him love ballads on the digeridoo (how did she get it into the hospital?) doing some of those massage and physiotherapy techniques she picked up from the therapists and the masseuse, and playing recordings of some of their favourite songs to tango to._

 _For four days, Gomez showed absolutely no indication of waking, despite everything Morticia tried. The stress of waiting for some improvement to happen has gotten to her. She is less able to keep it together without Gomez there to be her rock._

 _Gomez was in a real state after the operation. He had a nasogastric tube inserted down his nose to prevent vomiting, which is still inserted. He's been fed only liquid foods via his feeding tube for these past few days._

 _However, at the beginning of day five, in the early hours of the morning – as soon as Morticia was allowed return to his hospital room and sit beside him, that all changed._

 _When she opened the door, she immediately noticed Gomez reacting to it, just flickering his eyes open a little bit before they fell back closed. Morticia, elated, spent the rest of the day by his side, trying to encourage him further. Waking up from a coma (even a short one), is not like how it looks in the movies. It isn't like waking up from a regular nap, it's a process. Since Gomez's one was fairly short, the process of waking up will be shorter. For most of day five, Gomez was only able to open his eyes and look around a little before falling back under, and not able to respond to any questions by blinking._

 _However, by day six, Gomez's capacity to understand, what was going on was on its way back. He was able to blink yes and no to Morticia in moments of wakefulness, but was still too tired and groggy to use his eyegaze computer._

 _We open in the evening of day seven – a week later, and Gomez is finally now able to get started back on the eyegaze without getting too tired or woozy. Morticia has been waiting for this for an entire week. By day seven, his abilities to move the parts of his body he'd already recovered movement in (his face, mouth, head, and a little bit in the hands) had started to reawaken as well._

 _Morticia and Dr. Thoms are in the hospital room. Gomez is awake – more lucid than he's been the previous two days, and Thoms thinks now is a good time to get him back started on the eyegaze. Morticia stands beside Gomez's bed, her hand on his shoulder, as Thoms walks around the room, explaining things._

 **Thoms**

So we may as well get started with that now, then. I'll get the computer off his wheelchair in the corner.

 _Indeed, the powerchair has been sitting sadly unoccupied for the past week, gathering dust in the corner. Thoms goes over to it, and unclicks the computer stand off the powerchair._

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's shoulder softly._

 **Morticia**

Darling, did you hear the doctor?

 _Gomez weakly flicks his eyes up to give the affirmative. Morticia keeps her hand on his shoulder as Thoms comes back over, and brings the computer over to the bed, clicking it to the bedframe. He presses the power button, and it slowly turns back on._

 **Morticia**

Now, he's getting it all ready for you.

 _She squeezes his shoulder as the desktop loads._

 **Morticia**

Take your time, dear.

 _Gomez does take his time, slowly getting used to using the machine again. The mouse awkwardly darts around the screen, Gomez not fully back in control of all the faculties he has yet, but getting there. He finally manages a moment of concentration, and brings up the text-to-speech widget._

 **Gomez**

 _Querida mia…_

 _He's selected this from his top ten most used phrases as opposed to typing this himself. He looks at Morticia as the words play out._

 _Morticia beams._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _Gomez_.

 _She sits down beside him. Thoms watches, arms folded._

 **Morticia**

Speak to me, cavaliero mio. Use those glorious, bulging eyes of yours.

 _Gomez manages a weak smile, which in turn causes Morticia's heart to swell with relief._

 **Morticia**

Darling, you're smiling again.

 **Gomez**

It'll take a lot more than a mere anaesthetic to conquer an Addams!

 _Morticia strokes his cheek, so relieved that it isn't even funny._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, you're so inspirational.

 **Gomez**

I get it from you, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

Your typing, Gomez. Even encumbered by infusion upon infusion of medication – you compose those words so masterfully.

 **Thoms**

Well, that must be quite the relief for you, Mrs Addams.

 _Morticia looks up. She takes Gomez's hand._

 **Morticia**

Oh, doctor. I can't thank you enough. You have been so patient, even in my time of crisis.

 **Gomez**

Crisis? What crisis?

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear, you mustn't worry when we tell you.

 **Gomez**

What happened? Did it go alright?

 **Thoms**

The surgery?

 **Gomez**

Did I die?

 **Morticia**

Oh, not this time, Gomez. Thankfully not. You're still far too young for that.

 **Thoms**

It was a complete success. But I don't want you to be alarmed by what we're about to tell you.

 **Gomez**

Out with it, old man! I can't take the suspense!

 **Thoms**

Well, it's actually been seven days since the surgery took place, Mr Addams. You were comatose for four days. You've been waking up for the past three.

 _Gomez's eyes go wide. He looks at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

Tish! Is it true?

 **Morticia**

I'm afraid so, my darling.

 **Gomez**

By George, I didn't realize!

 **Morticia**

Oh, you mustn't worry, Gomez. It isn't your fault. Simply down to fate. But you're all better now.

 **Gomez** _(weakly nodding, eyes still wide)_

It's true I've always wanted to be in a coma, but not like this!

 **Morticia**

I know, I know, dear. We had planned it the safety of home, with Mama's concoctions to snap you out of it whenever you so desired.

 **Gomez**

The children must be worried sick!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, try not to worry yourself too much. I explained everything to them.

 **Thoms**

I made sure it wasn't going to be a matter of _if_ you woke, but _when._

 **Gomez**

Capital. I hate to scare them like that.

 **Morticia**

I know, dear, I know. But you mustn't worry now. You're back now.

 **Gomez**

Tish… I hope I didn't frighten you.

 **Morticia**

Don't apologize, darling. You must know I worried. How couldn't I? My heroic, courageous husband reduced to nothing, once again. But you fought, like a true Addams! You conquered that anaesthetic like a toreador in the ring, in the heat of battle!

 **Gomez**

 _Querida…_ you're so thoughtful.

 **Morticia**

So are you, dear. Thinking of us in your time of plight.

 **Gomez**

How could I think of anyone else?

 **Morticia**

You could think of yourself.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, cara mia. I think only of you, my beautiful, black orchid.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _Gomez._ You are an angel.

 _Morticia swoops in, and kisses Gomez on the forehead._

 _Thoms shifts uncomfortably._

 **Thoms**

So. Uh. I'm still here.

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Dr. Thoms! My apologies. I'm just excited. And dear Gomez _does_ tend to get a bit carried away.

 _Morticia and Gomez smile at each other, their eyes twinkling. Thoms clears his throat._

 **Thoms**

Well, Mr and Mrs Addams, I'm glad we could provide adequate care. But there's going to be a bit of a learning curve attached to having a colostomy bag in place. Should be much easier than a bowel programme, though.

 **Morticia**

Oh, thank heavens.

 **Gomez**

Ah, that blasted programme! Took up far too much time of our day, old man! I'll be glad to see it gone!

 **Morticia**

Me too. We have toiled and cried over that awful thing one too many times.

 **Gomez**

Besides – Tish.

 _Gomez smiles wickedly._

 **Gomez**

It means we can cuddle in the mornings.

 _Morticia lovingly sighs, envisioning spending mornings sleeping in with Gomez again rather than immediately having to clean him. Plus, she's just over the moon to have him back communicating after a very emotional couple of days._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _Gomez._ You dear, sweet, beautiful man.

 **Thoms**

 _Excuse me._

 _Gomez and Morticia both look back at Thoms._

 **Thoms**

So I thought I could talk the two of you through what you need to do.

 **Gomez**

Oh, yes. Fire away, old boy!

 **Morticia**

Yes, do go on, doctor. I do apologize. I'm just so relieved.

 _Gomez's eyes briefly become sad for a moment, as he feels a guilty twinge._

 **Gomez**

Oh, cara mia! To have scared you like that, and the children too! It crushes my soul!

 **Morticia**

 _Ssshhh,_ Gomez. You are not to apologize, under any circumstances. You have done nothing wrong. Isn't that right, Doctor?

 **Thoms**

Ah, yes. No, I can't say you did anything wrong, Mr Addams. Just a fact of life. It's like that sometimes. Stuff we can't control happens to us, and we deal with it. Like you did. You've dealt with it. You woke up – you did that yourself, we just waited.

 **Morticia**

Now, dear, do you hear the good doctor? You did it all by yourself.

 _Gomez feels a bit better now. He smiles, sort of bashfully._

 **Gomez**

Well, I suppose I did.

 **Thoms**

So – will you let me speak about the surgery, or…?

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

I _am_ sorry. It's just that dear Gomez and I haven't spoken in a whole week, and I have so much I must tell him.

 _Thoms groans._

 **Thoms**

Like what?

 _Morticia leans in, and gets right up in Gomez's face, looking into his eyes._

 **Morticia**

Gomez _…_

 **Gomez**

Yes, cara mia?

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez…_

 **Gomez**

 _Oh, Tish._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez…_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_

 _Morticia leans in close enough to kiss him on the mouth, and does so. His mouth movement (and whole face movement) is still a bit encumbered by the drowsiness, but he manages to kiss her back weakly. To Morticia, this means the entire world. She spends a few moments just staying close to him, taking in his presence. She was secretly so afraid she was going to lose him – if not to death, but to coma or a vegetative state. But now she feels silly for doubting him._

 **Thoms**

 _PLEASE._ I'm just going to start talking, and hey – if you wanna listen and learn about how you take care of the bag, fine. If you wanna be romantic, be romantic. But I'm just gonna do my job here.

 **Gomez**

A well-performed surgery _is_ so romantic, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I know, darling. Maybe now the worst is over, we can begin to enjoy it.

 **Thoms**

So, I'm just going to show it to you, Mr Addams. Don't be alarmed.

 **Gomez**

Alarmed? I'm positively ecstatic, old boy!

 _Thoms pulls the covers off the bed. Gomez is still wearing the white shirt Morticia placed on him, but every button bar the first two are undone, leaving Gomez's chest exposed. Gomez takes a look at the colostomy bag, which has been fitted to his abdomen._

 **Gomez** _(again, smiling, impressed by what he can see of his torso, and then looking at Morticia)_

Great Scott, it seems I've amassed _quite_ the collection of scars, haven't I, my dear?

 **Morticia**

My battered, battle-scarred, wounded love. You wear them so bravely.

 _Thoms presses a button on the bed, and it automatically rises up, putting Gomez into much more of a sitting position. Before, he was really lying down horizontally with his head raised up the slightest bit. Morticia moves the computer back in his line of sight as the back of the bed rises. Gomez can now get a better look at the results of the operation._

 _Indeed, there's a wound, with a clear bag affixed to it. Gomez looks at the doctor, very impressed._

 **Gomez**

Exquisite knifework, doctor! You did that like a swordsman!

 **Thoms**

I really hope not.

 _Gomez is beaming, and laughs a little. It still kind of looks like a spasm or convulsion when he laughs, but Morticia knows the difference, so isn't worried in the least._

 **Gomez** _(grinning)_

Just fooling, old man. I gotcha that time, didn't I?

 **Thoms**

Oh. Yes, very funny.

 **Gomez**

Besides, with all this blood, you're far more like an assassin! Or a samurai!

 **Morticia**

Or a slaughterhouse worker!

 _Gomez's eyes go wide and he turns his head as much as he can to look at Morticia, struck by inspiration._

 **Gomez**

Tish – _that's it!_ I look like the butchered carcass of a pig, fresh from the abbatoir! You _are_ a poet.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, you flatterer.

 _Thoms looks faint. He shakes it off as best as he can and continues to walk Gomez through the results of the operation._

 **Thoms**

So, Mr Addams, uh… you see that bag?

 **Gomez**

Unless we're both suffering from hallucinations!

 **Thoms**

So that's not going to be the same type you'll be using on a day to day basis. This is a post-surgery bag. Now – your stoma – which is the hole we cut in your abdomen, has actually already started working while you were under. So we're very satisfied on that front.

 **Gomez**

It has?

 **Thoms**

Indeed.

 **Gomez**

Another triumph of the Addams spirit, querida mia! My body, adjusting, as my mind still slept!

 **Morticia**

How thoughtful of it, darling.

 **Thoms**

Yes, well – uh. It started working. So that's really good. You can see, though it might be unsightly, that stool is draining into it.

 **Gomez** _(beaming)_

Positively disgusting, old man!

 **Thoms**

Yes, well, we'll be switching you to an opaque bag as soon as you're discharged. So you don't have to see it.

 **Morticia**

I know you and I don't mind, Gomez darling, but think of poor Aristotle.

 **Gomez**

Tish, you're right. He's such a sensitive octopus. The sight might upset him.

 **Thoms**

Well, look. Due to your… reduced capacity…

 **Gomez**

 _That's_ putting it mildly, old man!

 **Morticia**

Indubitably.

 **Thoms**

Well, yes – it is euphemistic, I suppose – but please, _do_ pay attention.

 **Gomez**

Ah yes.

 **Morticia**

Do go on.

 **Thoms**

Due to your reduced capacity for movement, the task of changing and cleaning out the pouch will go to Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

A responsibility, that for my _darling_ Gomez, I am honoured to take. After all, I must – who else could stomach it?

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia,_ such wisdom.

 **Thoms**

Will I show you how, or…?

 _But before Thoms can even finish his sentence, the door opens. Fester comes in first. Thoms hurriedly puts the blankets back over Gomez's body. As Fester enters, he's followed by Wednesday and Pugsley._

 _Wednesday and Pugsley take a second to process what they're seeing. Their father is awake and the eyegaze computer is on. The duo become very excited very quickly._

 **Wednesday**

Father! You didn't die!

 **Pugsley**

I was worried!

 **Gomez**

 _Ah, children!_

 **Pugsley**

Hello, father!

 **Gomez**

Wednesday! Pugsley! My heart aches! I want nothing more, than to take you! And hug you both!

 **Wednesday**

Can I sit on the bed?

 **Morticia**

Can she, doctor?

 **Thoms**

I mean… okay?

 _Thoms seems a bit defeated._

 _Fester picks Wednesday up and sits her on the bed, next to her father. Wednesday hugs him as best she can. Morticia sighs, happily._

 **Morticia**

Ah, my beautiful family. So tender. So loving.

 **Gomez** _(smiling devilishly at Morticia)_

They get it from their mother.

 **Morticia**

 _And_ their father.

 _The two of them just look into each others' eyes, passion flowing from them._

 **Wednesday**

Mr Thompson across the street said you were good as dead!

 **Gomez** _(incensed)_

He said _what?!_

 **Morticia** _(shocked)_

How uncouth!

 **Gomez**

How dare that _scoundrel_ utter such a thing to my children!

 **Morticia**

He's the same Mr Thompson who told you there were no witches or Santa Claus, isn't he?

 **Pugsley**

Yes.

 **Gomez**

Well, children – that's three for three lies that fiend has told!

 **Morticia**

You must not listen to a word that dastardly man says. He has no business saying your father's "good as dead". No one has the right to say such an awful thing.

 **Fester**

No one's got the right to, but I can see his point. Ya did look _very_ dead while ya were under, Gomez.

 _Everyone looks at Fester._

 **Morticia**

We're not listening, Fester, you mustn't encourage the thought.

 **Fester**

Gee, I'm just tryin' ta be nice.

 **Morticia**

 _Dear Fester,_ a deathly pallor is only desirable when one can be totally certain that death is not a real danger! Any other time, and I'm sure Gomez would be delighted by your compliment.

 **Gomez**

It's true, Fester, old man.

 **Fester**

Fine, fine. I'll zip it.

 _Fester sighs._

 **Fester**

Gotta be honest with ya – I missed your tellings off, Gomez. Glad ta have ya awake again.

 **Gomez**

Glad to _be_ awake!

 **Wednesday**

I'm glad too.

 _Wednesday squeezes Gomez into an even tighter hug._

 **Morticia**

Dear Wednesday, don't hug your father _too_ tightly. He's just had surgery in that exact spot.

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, my dear! I can't feel a thing!

 **Thoms**

The painkillers _are_ very strong. But yes, uh, Miss? Maybe don't hug your father _that_ tightly. Wouldn't want to burst the stitches now, would we?

 **Wednesday**

That sounds fun!

 **Morticia**

Oh, and usually, my darling, it would be. But not while your father recovers. We ought to wait until the stitches are ready to be removed, and then you can pull them out yourself. How does that sound?

 **Wednesday**

Alright!

 _She hugs him slightly less tightly._

 **Pugsley**

Father, when can you come home? Mother said you can move your fingers a bit now!

 **Gomez**

She's right, my boy! Watch this! Tish, show them my hand!

 _Morticia gently takes Gomez's arm and hand out from under the covers, and holds it up. Gomez moves his fingers as much as he possibly can. It's just a miniscule amount of movement, but it's undeniably there. Enough for him to type on a keyboard and enough for him to press a button._

 **Pugsley**

You'll finally be able to blow up the train I saved you!

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, I'm delighted. We'll do it as soon as I get back!

 **Morticia**

Which will be?

 **Thoms**

In a day or two. Now he's awake, all we really need to do is go over the process of caring for and managing his bags, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how wonderful.

 **Thoms**

Which I would _love_ to get out of the way, so if your uncle and your children could just give us a half an hour in which to explain/

 **Fester**

/If it means he comes home sooner, we'll scram! C'mon kids, I'll show ya around the head trauma room.

 **Pugsley / Wednesday**

Yay!

 _Fester leads the excited kids to the door of the room, and winks at Gomez and Morticia as he leaves._

 **Morticia** _(mouthing this)_

Thank you, Fester.

 **Gomez**

We'll see you in a half hour, kids! Say – when you get back, I'll read you a bedtime story.

 **Wednesday**

But it's only 4 o'clock!

 **Gomez**

Saves your mother telling one later!

 **Pugsley**

Sounds good! Let's go! I wanna see brains.

 **Morticia**

What do you say to your father!

 **Wednesday**

I'm glad you didn't die!

 **Morticia**

And?

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

We love you!

 **Morticia**

See you later, dears.

 **Gomez**

Don't get into too much trouble!

 _Fester leads the two kids out of the room. Thoms looks a little bit traumatized._

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear. They're so happy to see you awake.

 **Gomez** _(the computer voice that says it is unemotional, but Gomez is smiling, full of fatherly love, shaking his head in an "oh you" sort of way to underscore it)_

Ah, what little monsters they are, Tish!

 **Morticia**

Moments like these reassure me we've raised them well. Now. Dr Thoms – what was it you wanted to say?

 **Thoms**

Ah, yes. Finally. Well, it's about how to care for your husband now he has this bag in place.

 **Gomez**

Now, wait just one second, old man, I have a question.

 **Thoms**

Yes?

 **Gomez**

One more day here, or two? I've already been here a week, isn't that enough?

 **Thoms**

I mean, if you're this responsive, you'll probably need only one more day here, because your stoma is working just swell right now.

 **Morticia**

And it was swelling just swell after the operation, too.

 _Crickets from Thoms. Gomez chuckles, again, looking like he's spasming, but Thoms gets that his patient is laughing this time. He doesn't understand some types of people._

 **Thoms**

But yes – it's looking like one more day unless something goes catastrophically awry.

 **Gomez**

Sure hope nothing does, Thoms!

 _Gomez looks at Morticia, the devious grin still plastered on his face._

 **Gomez**

I miss our bed.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I do so hate sleeping alone in it.

 **Gomez**

Forgive me, cara mia. I hate to leave you lonely.

 **Morticia**

Now, what did I say about apologizing!

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Thoms**

 _Can I teach Mrs Addams or not?_

 _Gomez and Morticia both stare._

 **Morticia**

Why, of course you can!

 **Gomez**

Why didn't you say so?

 **Thoms**

Fine. _Fine._ Let's just… right. Mr and Mrs Addams, please pay attention. First thing I think I should say, is that there's no need for this tube in your nose anymore, Mr Addams. We'll take that out in just a moment. It was in before to prevent vomiting, and it did its job. We don't think there's much of a risk of that anymore.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how wonderful. We can take that unsightly thing out of your nose at last. It must feel so sore.

 **Gomez**

It _does_ feel rather like one of Pugsley's worms is up there, slithering away.

 **Thoms**

And once we take that out, the next thing is going to be you taking food by mouth again. Your wife told me you had recently started swallowing soft foods again?

 **Gomez**

Right you are, old boy!

 **Thoms**

Well, the sooner we can get you back to that, the better. And beyond. I'm sure you miss solids.

 **Morticia**

Poor dear hasn't had his favourite – eye of newt – in so long.

 **Gomez**

But _soon_ , querida!

 **Morticia**

 _Very soon_ , to a man of your prowess.

 **Thoms**

And that will come with repeated mouth physiotherapy from Dr Harvey, my colleague. Okay. That leaves changing and cleaning the bag.

 _Dr Thoms points to a plastic bag in the corner of the room._

 **Thoms**

This contains everything you need to change the bag. Now, I'm going to do it first, and walk you through it.

 _Thoms pulls back the covers again, and exposes the stoma and bag._

 **Thoms**

As I said, this isn't the kind of bag you'll usually use on him on a day to day basis. This is clear so we can monitor everything. Let me show you a better example.

 _Thoms goes over to the plastic bag, and starts pulling things out of it. He shows Morticia and Gomez an opaque bag, that's otherwise identical to the clear one._

 **Thoms**

 _This_ is more the kind of bag you can expect to be using from now on. So, let's change the bag. Is it alright if I do that, Mr Addams?

 **Gomez**

Knock yourself out, old man!

 **Morticia**

Well, I wouldn't advise him go _that_ far.

 **Thoms**

Now. First thing. This bag is cut to size already. Not all of them will be. Mrs Addams, you may have to cut them to the proper size yourself, or get the delivery guys to do it when you get a new shipment of them. Most important step in the beginning – wash your hands.

 _Thoms goes over to a bedside sink and washes his hands in the way that medical professionals are expected to._

 **Thoms**

Getting all of this so far?

 _Thoms looks up, and sees Morticia writing with a peacock feather quill on an ornate scroll, which seems to have materialized out of nowhere. Gomez is watching diligently._

 **Thoms**

I… y'know. I'm not even gonna ask. Anyway – next step after you wash your hands. Let's just line the area around his stoma with some tissues, in case there's mess.

 _Thoms pulls some tissues from the dispenser, and places three or four on Gomez's abdomen around the stoma. Thoms then pulls out some adhesive remover spray and some dry wipes from the plastic bag next to the bed. He sprays the adhesive removal spray, and then slowly and carefully begins to peel the stoma bag back, and equally very carefully places some of the dry wipes over the top of the bag where he peeled it back from, to prevent anything leaking from the opening. He takes the stoma bag, and with his other hand, he reaches into the plastic bag, and pulls out a disposable sack. He puts the bag in the disposable sack and back into the plastic bag._

 _He wets the wipes, and then begins to clean around the stoma, and then dries the area using the wipes he didn't wet. He gently pats the area to clean and dry it. Then, he reaches back into the plastic bag, drops all the wipes into the disposable bag, and when he's done this, moves over to the opaque bag. He pulls out a few more sprays from the plastic bag, and makes sure to coat the skin a little bit with some of these sprays, before ensuring the area is dry._

 **Thoms**

All good so far, Mr Addams? Are you in any pain?

 **Gomez**

Not at all!

 **Thoms**

Excellent. Now. This is where we put the new bag on.

 _He lines up the hole on the new bag with the stoma, and from the end of the bag, rolls it over the stoma. He presses gently down on the wafer, which is the bit that sticks to the skin. He presses down to ensure everything sticks as best as it can, and when he's satisfied, he steps back. He then takes a bunch more opaque bags and empty disposable bags out of the plastic bag, and places them on the bed._

 **Thoms**

I'll get rid of all the trash in this one.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, doctor. This has been very helpful.

 **Thoms**

You think you can do it now?

 **Morticia** _(smiling pleasantly)_

I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.

 _Thoms's eyes go a bit wide._

 **Thoms**

 _Okay…_ uh. Well, I'll be back tomorrow and I can do it for you again myself. Or you could try changing his bag tonight, before he goes to sleep. Make sure you have a nurse on hand, though. But the sooner you get used to doing this for your husband, the better.

 _Thoms clears his throat._

 **Thoms**

Well, that's enough from me. Since the two of you are so… _eager…_ to speak with each other – and I suppose I can't _really_ blame you, he's been out of it for a week – I'll leave you to it.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, doctor!

 **Gomez**

You're a class act!

 **Morticia**

A consummate professional!

 **Gomez**

Such integrity!

 **Morticia**

Do be careful out there!

 **Thoms**

I will.

 **Morticia**

And what do you say to Mr Addams?

 _Morticia and Gomez forget briefly that he isn't one of the children, and Morticia just reflexively asks the question out of habit._

 _Thoms stands there, very confused._

 **Thoms**

"I… love you?"

 **Gomez**

No need to go that far, doctor! Nonetheless, I'm flattered.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, that was my mistake. Do be on your way, doctor!

 **Gomez**

Don't let us keep you!

 **Thoms**

I certainly won't.

 _Thoms slips out the door._

 _Morticia and Gomez are left alone. The two of them look at each other, lovingly and tenderly._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… my dear, darling Gomez.

 _Gomez closes his eyes, smiling again, before looking back at her._

 **Gomez**

Ah, Tish. What a comfort it is to know you're in such good hands.

 **Morticia**

That doctor Thoms _is_ excellent, isn't he?

 **Gomez**

Querida mia – I meant you!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Yes, my dear?

 **Morticia**

There's something I've wanted to say to you. Though, I wanted to wait until everyone else had left.

 _Morticia smiles coyly._

 _Gomez smiles back, wider still. His smile is getting remarkably close to normal now._

 **Morticia**

That charming smile, Gomez. So beautifully askew.

 **Gomez**

I do my best.

 **Morticia**

Listen closely, darling.

 _Morticia leans in right next to Gomez's ear. She speaks barely above a whisper._

 **Morticia**

 _Je t'aime, mon cher. Tu es mon amour, toujours._

 _Gomez's passion goes into an immediate, frenzied overdrive. He turns his head as much as he can. He manages to turn it enough that he meets Morticia's cheek. He kisses it weakly, but Morticia smiles, still coyly, as she keeps going._

 **Morticia**

 _J'adore, bubeleh._

 _Gomez keeps up with the weak kissing – moving his head as much as he can to kiss as much of her face as he can. But Morticia leans in herself, her forehead against his, and they make intense, passionate eye contact for just a second, before Morticia presses her lips to his, and they kiss, properly – passionately. In this moment, for them, all is right in the world._


	38. Day 142

**_AN:_** _I wanted to expand a bit on Gomez being there and (emotionally) looking after Morticia, especially after the last chapter. She was lost without him while he was under, and he's as much there for her as she's there for him, so I wanted to write a little piece where he grounds her and comforts her in this tough situation – which he does mostly by just being himself and being there to reassure her._

* * *

 _Thoms is about ready to discharge Gomez. It's the following day. Morticia is cleaning him up in preparation of leaving in a few hours' time. Morticia somehow has a miniature basketball, and a miniature basketball net has been stuck to the far wall. In her other hand, Morticia combs Gomez's hair, an activity she finds great comfort in doing, even if his hair is incredibly neat already._

 _As she finishes running the comb through his hair for the umpteenth time, the voice on Gomez's eyegaze computer bursts into life as he speaks._

 **Gomez**

Ready?

 **Morticia**

Always, darling.

 **Gomez**

Aim!

 _Morticia nods, and holds the basketball behind her head, still combing his hair and not looking at the net._

 **Gomez**

 _Fire!_

 _Morticia throws the basketball blindly backwards, and of course, makes a perfect basket. She turns around to see it, delighted with herself. When she turns back around to see Gomez, he's smiling broadly, looking excited._

 **Gomez**

 _Olé!_ _Perfect_ , querida mia!

 **Morticia**

Well, I do try.

 **Gomez**

Such dexterity! Such poise! Such steely concentration!

 **Morticia**

You flatterer.

 **Gomez**

And that's just the way you comb my hair.

 **Morticia**

Why, you _are_ in _quite the mood_ for flattery.

 **Gomez**

It's the day that's in it, my dear! Home at last!

 **Morticia**

That is true, darling. But we still have to have you looking your best. And that reminds me – I must speak with Dr Thoms about removing that unsightly tube out of your nose. I see no danger of you vomiting at all. Shall I fetch him?

 _Gomez nods, thinking it best to do it now._

 **Gomez**

Good thinking, querida. It has been rather uncomfortable.

 **Morticia**

Anything for you, Gomez.

 _She shoots him a loving smile, which he reciprocates. She walks over to the door, but before she can open it, she hears a knock emanating from it._

 **Morticia**

Why, that must be him now!

 _Morticia opens the door, and as expected, it is Dr. Thoms._

 **Gomez**

Excellent timing, old man! Come in!

 **Morticia**

I was just on my way to fetch you, doctor. We think it would be so unbecoming to send Gomez home with that unsightly tube in his nose. Could you please remove it?

 **Gomez** _(nodding, smiling. He's in a good mood)_

It _would_ be quite the relief!

 **Thoms**

Oh. Of course. Yes, it's about time we took it out.

 _Thoms approaches the bed, staring at the basketball hoop. He doesn't need to express his confusion in words, his face says enough._

 **Morticia**

Oh, just a little reminder of home. I _should_ take it down now, though. Thank you for reminding me, doctor.

 **Thoms**

Right. Well. Uh, let's get to it, then.

 _Thoms looks at Gomez, and carefully takes the tube in his hand, just looking at it._

 **Thoms**

Okay - this will feel uncomfortable, Mr Addams, I'm sorry.

 **Gomez**

Banish those apologetics, old man! Discomfort is my middle name!

 **Morticia**

It is?

 _Gomez spasm-laughs, smiling wickedly._

 **Gomez**

Just a jest, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

So it's still Florencia?

 **Gomez**

Still Florencia, my dear!

 **Morticia**

I'm glad. It _does_ suit you.

 **Thoms**

Excuse me. Let's just, uh, get to it, please. Mr Addams? Again - I'm sorry if this is painful or uncomfortable.

 _Thoms presses a button, raising the bed up even more and bringing Gomez into even more of a sit than he had been previously._

 _Thoms then grabs a towel from the bedside and drapes it over Gomez's chest. He then puts on a new set of gloves._

 **Thoms**

Right, this'll be quick.

 _Thoms peels back the small bit of tape attaching the tube to Gomez's nose, and places it briefly on the bedside table._

 **Thoms**

Okay, we'll do it on your next breath. Sorry in advance.

 _They wait until the ventilator performs Gomez's next breath for him, and as his chest falls again, Thoms pulls the whole thing out in one fell swoop. It seems to go longer than Gomez had expected it would._

 _Gomez gags. It's actually painful for Morticia to watch this. Gomez did not expect the removal to be so abrupt, and so his eyes immediately begin to water the moment the tube was first moved out of his nose. His eyeliner - perfectly applied by Morticia for him - she can't have him not looking like himself - even while he was comatose - begins to run. He makes an intense gurgling, gagging noise, followed by a cough. He immediately starts sweating profusely. Morticia almost wishes his mouth or face was more paralyzed, just because now he's better able to emote, seeing his pained expression kills her._

 **Morticia** _(flustered by how hard that was to watch)_

 _Oh, Gomez..._

 _As soon as Thoms is finished, Morticia swoops next to Gomez. She takes some tissues from one of the tissue dispensers, and dabs Gomez's forehead free of the sweat. He looks up at her rather helplessly._

 _She then takes another tissue, and with Thoms just stepping out of the way, it leaves her free to wipe Gomez's face clean of the running eyeliner. She also just gently dabs his eyes free of tears._

 **Morticia** _(she then takes his hand out from under the covers, and holds it)_

My poor, noble, courageous love. Speak to me, darling.

 **Gomez** _(if he could physically speak, this would be spoken frazzled and woozy)_

Oh, querida mia.

 **Thoms**

I'm sorry. I really am. You're good now. All gone!

 _Thoms holds up the tube._

 **Gomez**

Ah, liberated from that wretched contraption at last. A cause for celebration, cara mia! Let's dance 'til dawn!

 _Thoms stares. Morticia takes another tissue, and wipes Gomez's nose as he speaks. He smiles as he looks into her eyes, very excited._

 **Thoms**

Now, please, Mr Addams. I know you're not one to let things stop you, but take it easy for the next few days.

 **Morticia**

But dancing 'til dawn _is_ taking it easy, doctor! Before Gomez became ill, we didn't stop 'til noon!

 **Thoms**

Well, maybe just cut out the dancing for a day or two.

 **Morticia**

And disrupt the triumphant march of his progress?

 **Thoms**

Any of your husband's purported "triumph" will have to be put on/

 **Gomez**

/ _Triumphant_ , you say?

 _Gomez nods, allowing himself to have this._

 **Gomez**

Well, that's true.

 **Morticia**

Of course it is. How could it not be? You're Gomez Addams! _The single most triumphant man, a noble husband, a doting father, a/_

 **Thoms**

/Well, you should be able to transfer him back to his wheelchair in just a few to prepare him to leave. Oh, just one last thing.

 **Gomez**

What?

 **Thoms**

Trach suction and then you're out of here.

 _Gomez's cheery demeanour almost immediately dulls. He can't stand trach suction. The sensation is even worse than the tube being pulled out his nose. Even though he undergoes trach suction every single day, it always fills him with a primal dread._

 _Morticia catches sight of this. She knows how much he hates it, and how, after the tube being removed too, this is turning out to be more of a traumatizing afternoon than previously planned. She squeezes his hand._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia...

 _Morticia leans down, and kisses Gomez on the top of his head. Maybe a bit cheesy to some, but Gomez, the hopeless romantic, is, of course, very comforted by it._

 **Thoms**

Let's get it done, Mr Addams. And then you can go home to your family.

 _Gomez nods, resigned to his fate._

 **Gomez**

If we must, old man.

 _Morticia keeps her hand holding Gomez's, trying to bring as much comfort to him while Thoms performs the very uncomfortable task of suctioning Gomez's tracheostomy._

 _Thoms places another thin pad (more like a big tissue) over Gomez's chest - over the towel that's still there. He then grabs a suction catheter, one of which is behind the bed, and a resuscitation bag, checking the catheter is at the right amount of pressure._

 _Thoms then puts on a surgical mask and an impervious gown, both of which are ready and waiting for anyone to put on, sitting on one of the shelves._

 _Thoms then puts on another, different pair of gloves and readies a cup. He then pours a saline solution into the cup._

 **Thoms**

Sorry again. I swear, I've got nothing against you.

 **Morticia**

Only a madman would.

 **Thoms**

Gonna give you a few more breaths now.

 _Thoms takes the suction catheter in one hand. In the other, he dislodges Gomez's tracheostomy tube, and puts the resuscitation bag there instead in its place, blocking the hole. He then squeezes down on the resuscitation bag a few times to give Gomez some extra air, as promised._

 _He then takes the bag off, leaving Gomez laying there with nothing connecting him to the ventilator he needs to breathe. Morticia can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She can barely being herself to watch, knowing Gomez has no power or control over his ability to breathe._

 _Thoms picks up the suction catheter, and the tubing, which is just laying on the bed, ready for something to be connected to it. Then he dips it in the saline solution. Gomez has started sweating again._

 _Thoms makes sure it's actually working, confirms it is, and makes sure the tube connecting the ventilator is out of the way._

 **Thoms**

Again, old man. I'm sorry.

 _Thoms eases the catheter inside the hole in Gomez's throat, and through the short plastic tube keeping the hole open. The catheter sucks up all the mucus and gunk that Gomez hasn't been able to clear from his throat that may be obstructing or endangering his breathing without him knowing. It is a decidedly unpleasant sensation for Gomez, a tube being forced down his throat that sucks everything up inside of it. When it gets a few centimetres down, Gomez violently coughs, gagging and accidentally dribbling out of both sides of his mouth._

 _Thoms pulls the catheter about, swirling and rotating it intermittently. It is only done for about ten seconds but for Gomez it feels like forever._

 _When Thoms finally stops, he puts everything to the side briefly, and gives Gomez a few more deep, hyperventilated breaths on the resuscitation bag._

 **Thoms**

Doing great.

 _Thoms flushes the catheter out by dipping it in the saline solution, giving Gomez a few moments before repeating the process again. Again, Gomez coughs, gagging intensely and dribbling out of his now open mouth - he wants to yell with pain but can't make sound. When he opens his mouth to gag and yell, all that comes out is dribble. Gomez is, unsurprisingly embarrassed._

 _Thoms finishes the second round, and flushes the catheter once more before giving Gomez a final ten seconds of suctioning. Gomez has tears coming from his eyes, drool coming out of his mouth and sweat forming everywhere. Morticia can barely watch as Gomez wretches - it's especially hard to watch because he wretches without being able to move, so all he really does is seem to jerkily vibrate or convulse._

 _Knowing Thoms is done, he gives Gomez a few more hyperventilated breaths before disposing of all the now non-sterile pieces of medical equipment. He watches Morticia and Gomez sadly._

 _Thoms re-connects Gomez's tracheotomy tube to the ventilator, securing it back and ensuring Gomez gets steady and constant airflow again._

 _He then takes a few steps back and surveys them both._

 **Thoms**

Well, that is that! I'll leave you to it. I'll be back in about a half hour with the hoist. Then we can finally get you out of here. And again - Mr Addams - that was rough. I'm sorry.

 _Thoms gives them both a curt nod and exits before either can say a word._

 _Morticia looks at Gomez's face. He's crying - whether due to the pain and discomfort, the genuine emotional turmoil, or both - he's dribbling saliva again, and he is drenched in sweat._

 _Morticia, too, is genuinely upset by what she just witnessed. The truth is, Morticia has never been able to do this to Gomez herself. She has always had one of the live-in nursing staff suction her husband's tracheotomy. She's only seen it done on him once before, and that was while he still had no face movement._

 _Even then, when she couldn't see the reaction on his face, she couldn't bear to watch. Now he can show emotion and discomfort, she is rendered emotional by merely re-imagining what she just saw. The looks of pain, the bodily fluids that escape during the process, the discomfort, the twinge of humiliation and the overwhelming helplessness all combines into one - this destroys her. She can't ever do this procedure on Gomez and she can't bear to ever watch it done on him again._

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's hair and appeals directly to him._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling, cavaliero mio -_ say something. Anything, to let me know how you're feeling. How are you feeling, Gomez?

 **Gomez** _(weakly giving her a nod)_

Just a little drained, cara mia. But I'll be alright.

 **Morticia**

Dear, let's get you cleaned up.

 **Gomez**

Thank you.

 _Morticia takes more of the tissues from the dispenser, and begins to wipe Gomez's face clean of sweat, drool, and tears. He is a little embarrassed that Morticia is seeing him like this, but also knows he ought not to be._

 _Morticia is very careful in how she neatens Gomez up, trying to be as gentle as possible. When she's finally wiped everything clean, she takes a step back, and sighs._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, that must have been truly frightening. To think you must endure it on a daily basis. I don't know how you do it.

 **Gomez**

Frankly, my dear, I don't know how I do it either!

 _Morticia surveys Gomez, still a little traumatized from what she just witnessed._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… darling.

 _She sighs._

 **Morticia**

May I join you?

 **Gomez** _(grinning, surprised)_

In bed?

 **Morticia**

Precisely.

 **Gomez**

If you can fit, my dear! I certainly do take up a lot of space!

 **Morticia**

As you should. Your limbs need to be stretched. Allow me.

 _Morticia unclicks one of the barriers on the side of the bed off (most are removable) and sets it down on the floor. She pulls back the covers. She takes Gomez's right arm and right leg, and very gently moves them in a little, giving her a small amount more space to join him._

 _She slips beside him, and brings the covers back up over them. The two of them look at each other. Gomez beams. Morticia smiles sadly._

 **Gomez**

Ah, cara. Together at last.

 **Morticia** _(nodding, distressed)_

Gomez…

 _Morticia seems genuinely distraught, replaying the mental image over and over. She seems much more distressed than Gomez, but he picks up on this._

 **Gomez**

Morticia – you're in a blue funk.

 **Morticia**

Yes, I suppose I am.

 **Gomez**

Oh, my dear _querida_ – what happened?

 _Morticia looks into his eyes, incredulous._

 **Morticia**

It's too upsetting to think about.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia - whatever the problem, we can handle it!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, I know. I just wish you didn't have to…

 **Gomez** _(concerned)_

Didn't have to what?

 **Morticia**

Undergo that wretched treatment. The look on your face was one of pure torture. And _not_ the fun kind. You looked like… you were in agony.

 **Gomez**

I am, my dear - to see you upset like this!

 **Morticia**

I refuse to carry out that procedure myself. I couldn't even stand to see it when you were under.

 **Gomez**

I don't blame you – neither could I! In fact, I couldn't even stand _or_ see it.

 _Morticia smiles at his little joke._

 **Morticia**

You are so…

 _She struggles to find the words._

 **Morticia**

…so able to take this all in your stride.

 **Gomez**

 _Tish_ – if I can't stand, I can't stride either!

 **Morticia**

But dear, you are so adaptable.

 **Gomez** _(nodding, grinning, full of jokes)_

Pretty ironic seeing as we've adapted the whole house to suit me.

 **Morticia**

And still so full of humour and courage.

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, there's something I must tell you. These past few days without you. They have been nothing short of mental torture. Your presence is so grounding. With you comatose, I felt unmoored – lost without a light to guide me through this ordeal. And _you_ are the one enduring it, not me.

 **Gomez** _(surprised to hear her say this)_

But _cara mia!_ You _are_ enduring it!

 **Morticia**

Not to the degree that you are.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! My dear - you cater to my every need! All I do is merely lay, and allow my needs be met! You do it all! From morning to night! You are a saint.

 **Morticia**

You're too kind, darling.

 _She leans next to him and kisses him on the cheek._

 **Morticia**

It just tears my heart to shreds to see you suffer like that. And my heart was already in tatters from that brief coma. Without you to talk to, without your words of comfort… I floundered.

 **Gomez** _(trying to cheer her up but also genuinely tickled by the image)_

To have one's heart torn to shreds. What a thought!

 **Morticia**

But you see what I'm saying, dear. Despite your being the one who's so unwell… I still turn to you for comfort to cope with it.

 **Gomez**

Unwell? I'm always well when I'm with you, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez…_

 **Gomez**

Tish – no more surgeries! I can't risk going under again!

 _Morticia doesn't even have words to express her relief._

 **Gomez**

I can't do that to you and the children. It wouldn't be right.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, dear. I'm still glad we got this one. I have no regrets.

 **Gomez**

Nor do I! Tonight, we shall cuddle uninterrupted at last!

 **Morticia**

That will be such a blessing, _mon cher._

 _Morticia leans in and kisses him reflexively, but she's maybe underestimated Gomez's ability to turn his head from side to side. He turns his head immediately to kiss her. Morticia winds up kissing Gomez on the forehead, and Gomez winds up kissing Morticia on the cheek. They both stop, pause for one second, and then kiss on the lips._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Morticia**

 _Bubeleh…_

 **Gomez**

 _Bubeleh._ Tish, you know what that word does to me.

 **Morticia** _(still a little upset, but now being a bit more self-aware about it, plus Gomez is cheering her up by just being his normal self)_

Kiss me again, Gomez. Banish these thoughts.

 **Gomez**

For you, _querida_ , _anything!_ Your knight in shining armour - to defend you against the ravages of the world!

 **Morticia**

You _romantic_ …

 _Gomez goes back in for another kiss, giving her a few small ones, before she leans in and they kiss on the lips again – and again. Gomez hopes he's cheered her up a bit. Indeed, a smile begins to form back on Morticia's face._

 **Gomez** _(smiling, lovingly, back at her)_

Happy, cara mia?

 **Morticia**

 _Cavaliero mio…_

 _She sighs, smiling at him._

 **Morticia**

…when I'm with you, it's hard not to be.

 _Meanwhile, Dr Thoms returns to pick up the trash bag, slightly opens the door, and sees the two of them kissing – with Morticia in the bed beside Gomez. He immediately retreats, trying to act as if he'd never seen anything._


	39. Day 143

_**AN:**_ _Just a quickie today, sorry guys! But I really did want to write one where Morticia and Gomez have a conversation in which Morticia does all the speaking and Gomez is completely non-verbal, but in which the conversation is essentially normal and they communicate effectively as if they were both equally able to communicate their thoughts, more or less. I also wanted to just write their morning cuddle time because that's cute, man._

* * *

 _Morticia and Gomez are laying in bed beside each other. It's about 8am. Around this time, Morticia would have to get up, to clean Gomez, but since the operation and the insertion of the ostomy bag, that is no longer necessary. She hasn't had a lie-in like this in who knows how long. As well as this, on occasion, Gomez could sleep through his morning cleanings, but not often. Now, like Morticia, he can properly sleep in._

 _The two of them are asleep, completely exhausted, and remain sleeping for hours more. It's only at about 10.30 when Morticia finally begins to stir._

 _She opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is Gomez, still asleep, beside her. She immediately notices the time on the wolf's head clock in the far end of the room, and smiles, thankful that she doesn't actually need to get up. She quickly watches Gomez to make sure his ventilator is working and keeping him breathing - which it is. Now knowing he's alright, she moves even closer to Gomez. She rests her head on his shoulder, her head touching his._

 _She gets comfortable - easy for her when Gomez is involved - and reaches under the covers, looking for his hand. She finds it, and takes it._

 _Maybe the sensation of his hand being taken, or Morticia nuzzling into his shoulder is what draws him out of sleep, but Gomez also begins to rouse. Waking up is a little bit harder for him as it's usually waking out of a medication infused sleep. Groggy, woozy and confused as per, he takes a second to return back to earth, where he realizes he's safe in his own bed with his wife beside him. A wave of calm washes over him as he makes this realization._

 _His eyegaze computer is turned off, sitting on a chaise longue. He usually doesn't get access to it to communicate until when Morticia is getting him cleaned and ready to start the day. He doesn't mind so much as long as he's with her, though. She understands what he needs without him even needing to say it most of the time. He'll get the eyegaze when he gets it._

 _As he wakes, he blinks his eyes a few times to see better, and in the corner of his eye he sees Morticia resting on his shoulder. He turns his head to see her better._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, I woke you up.

 _Gomez weakly shakes his head, still waking up, as if to say it's okay._

 **Morticia**

I _am_ sorry, darling.

 _Gomez shakes his head again - still weakly, but enough to get the point across._

 **Morticia**

Are you trying to say it's alright?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, dear. I was just thrilled by the prospect of a late morning, spent in your embrace.

 _Gomez uses all his limited and weak finger movement to squeeze Morticia's hand, which is still holding his. What he does is not, by any definition of the word, a squeeze - more of a tiny shift in pressure. He also weakly mimes a kiss, to which Morticia brings her lips to Gomez's, so he can plant a kiss on hers. They kiss each other lovingly - an average start to the day in the Addams household._

 _Morticia, when she finally pulls her head back, surveys Gomez's face with coy pride._

 **Morticia**

Darling... your mouth seems almost completely back to normal, doesn't it?

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow. She knows he's probably saying "it is?" or "you think?"_

 **Morticia**

Of course, darling! Your mouth doesn't hang open anymore! Your smile is back. That _dashing_ smile.

 _Gomez's mouth is still open, but barely. To the reader: open your own mouth the tiniest amount you can manage - this where he is now._

 **Morticia**

Dear, It looks no different to any other's mouth in the way it hangs. You've been so masterful.

 _Gomez smiles. His mouth still might rest the tiniest bit open, but his smile is completely back to normal. In fact, the only indication that his mouth was recently totally paralyzed is the fact that his tongue is still quite affected by the paralysis. However, now he's able to keep his mouth closed, or close to closed, nobody can see his tongue, so nobody can tell. She sighs audibly, reflecting on the amount of turmoil it took to get here._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. How many times I thought I'd seen that smile for the last time... how foolish of me.

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, Gomez. Even I can be a fool sometimes. Though, it _is_ rare.

 _Beat. Morticia is more in love with him than she's ever been._

 **Morticia**

Squeeze my hand again, darling, it's so comforting.

 _Gomez repeats the same movement from last time. He "squeezes" her hand with his fingers, which are just about strong enough to press hard enough on a keyboard to register a key. What he manages is not a squeeze to anyone but the two of them._

 _Morticia sighs, content._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, dear. It's so nice to finally be able to sleep in with you. I _have_ missed it so.

 _Gomez just smiles, closing his eyes, sort of savouring the moment._

 **Morticia**

Thank you for assuaging my fears yesterday, darling. To show weakness like that... it was so very unlike me. I simply can't stand seeing you in distress.

 _Gomez weakly shakes his head, smiling apologetically._

 **Morticia**

You can't stand it either?

 _Gomez shakes his head again._

 **Morticia**

Do you _not_ think it unlike me?

 _Gomez shakes his head a second time._

 **Morticia**

Do you need something, darling?

 _Gomez shakes his head a third time. Morticia sighs, frustrated that she can't figure out what he wants to say._

 **Morticia**

You don't think my outburst a sign of weakness at all?

 _Gomez finally nods. Morticia sighs._

 **Morticia**

I suppose I should have expected your thinking that. I see through your attempts to hide your distress.

 _Gomez gives a sad nod._

 **Morticia**

You _do_ hide it. I know you wouldn't want us to worry.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

But such a thing is simply unavoidable, darling - I simply... cherish you.

 _Gomez smiles, wanting to say so much, but the eyegaze computer is in the far corner of the room. He is overrun with passionate love and it's still so early. He rolls his head even closer to Morticia, planting weak little kisses wherever he can reach - mainly her neck and cheek._

 **Morticia**

You wicked Castilian.

 _Morticia just lays next to him, allowing herself to be loved in this way. When Gomez finally stops, she lets go of his hand and runs her own hand through his hair._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _Gomez just shoots her a goofy grin._

 **Morticia**

I think, darling, we may need to freshen you up today.

 _Gomez doesn't understand for a second, and Morticia can see the confusion flicker in his eyes. She points to his face._

 **Morticia**

 _That_ is a _six o'clock shadow,_ Gomez. I shall shave you in the afternoon, when Fester is sufficiently powered up to run the electric razor.

 _She runs her finger across his stubble._

 **Morticia**

Ah, darling. Just like a cactus. Or sandpaper - so gloriously textured. But just not the real you. _Your_ face is as smooth as the underside of a newt.

 _Gomez can't help but be flattered. He shakes his head a tiny bit, as if to convey that now he's getting embarrassed - but of course, he's loving it._

 **Morticia**

You know, darling... perhaps you _are_ due another haircut.

 _Gomez has been thinking the same. He wants to exclaim his approval, but can only nod as emphatically as his capacity for movement allows him to. Nonetheless, Morticia gets the message._

 **Morticia**

Ah, wonderful, dear. I will take great care! Your _is_ very precious to me. It's such a sumptuous shade of black.

 _Morticia runs her fingers through it._

 **Morticia**

Though, the wonders a cut shall do for you. Were it even possible for you to look more dashing, a haircut would do it!

 _She is well aware that she's giving him compliment after compliment - this is done specifically to keep his self-esteem up while he's in this state - and also, because she genuinely believes them and wants to gush about him. Even if it's to him._

 **Morticia**

Gomez - there are men outside these windows who can talk - and breathe - and move their bodies - and walk - and use their arms - who can take their medications by mouth and who can use the bathroom. A great many men, as I'm sure you know. And yet, darling, without a single one of these faculties - your glorious spirit alone surmounts them all.

 _Gomez is reassured, maybe unconsciously, by compliments like this. Ever since he blurted out his question where he asked Morticia would she still love him if he remained paralyzed forever, Morticia has been working hard to dispel these fears in him. Though usually this thought doesn't worry him, sometimes it does rear its ugly head. Phrases like these put his soul at ease._

 _Gomez tries - and ostensibly fails - to mouth "thank you, cara mia". He opens his mouth, his tongue sort of begins to slip out of it. He quickly tries to move his tongue and it doesn't move much at all. He gets it to move a tiny amount. Morticia sees this, and raises an eyebrow._

 **Morticia**

Are you alright, Gomez?

 _Gomez nods, still trying to get his tongue back inside his mouth - it's not lolling out or anything, just kind of poking out a bit._

 **Morticia**

Do you need my help?

 _Gomez hesitates for a half second, before deciding to take her help. He's become very good at asking for help. He really wants to teach the children that there's no shame in asking for, or needing, help. He decides he'd better take his own lesson._

 _Morticia nods._

 **Morticia**

Do you want help with your tongue, Gomez, dear?

 _Gomez nods again._

 **Morticia**

Alright, darling. Can you open your mouth as wide as it can go?

 _Gomez obeys. Morticia helps him by gently pressing on his lower jaw a little more. Then, she just, very gently, pokes his tongue back in behind his bottom teeth._

 **Morticia**

Alright, now, close your mouth as best you can for me, dear.

 _Gomez obliges, his mouth returning to that just-about-closed resting state. It's the tiniest bit open but not open enough for his tongue to escape._

 _Morticia tries to dispel any insecurity._

 **Morticia**

What was I saying before that, my darling?

 _Gomez tries to communicate something via the way he looks at her, but she can't tell what it is._

 **Morticia**

Ah - of course. I was merely reminding you of your intense and truly magnificent inner strength. Isn't that right?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

But of course... _bubeleh_.

 _She immediately goes back in, kissing Gomez on the lips, to which he reciprocates. He doesn't need to express aloud what that word does to him - they both know. The two of them continue to lay like this, having a one-sided back and forth, for about another hour or two - this is the rarest treat for them in these difficult days, and neither of them can still quite belief this is now their everyday. Even though Morticia became so stressed about Gomez's reaction to the general anaesthetic and the ensuing brief coma, she now feels, in retrospect, a morning like this, knowing Gomez recovered from the brief coma - makes it all worthwhile._


	40. Day 143 (Part 2)

_**AN:**_ _The sort of valve mentioned here is called a Passy Muir valve. I've been in a research rabbit hole the past 2 days on them. Let's get this boy talking again - it's about time he began work on regaining his speech! Also, when he says "bully!" that just means "nice!" or "great!" - obviously to capture the character you know and love, I borrow a lot of his turns of phrase from the TV show and thought I'd use this one too, just explain it beforehand._

* * *

 _The scene in the main living room of the house is chaotic. Gomez is in his powerchair – which is tilted a little to a backwards leaning angle. About four different things are being done to him at once. Dr Harvey is standing right in front of him, speaking to him directly about a new care option. Morticia is standing behind him, cutting his hair. Grandmama is to his left, exercising his left arm and hand, and Lurch is to his right, coating his face (bar his moustache) in shaving foam, readying him for a shave. This is the kind of overstimulation Gomez can completely take in his stride._

 **Harvey**

So you may not want this, Mr Addams, and that's fine, but I just feel like I should present you with the option.

 _Lurch coats another dollop of shaving foam across Gomez's cheek._

 **Gomez** _(curious)_

Fire away, old man.

 **Harvey**

So - I have a question for you, and you may not have an answer for me, and that's okay.

 **Morticia** _(eyebrow raised)_

Foolish of you to underestimate my husband's extensive knowledge of barracuda breeding, doctor.

 _Gomez flicks his eyes up and grins at Morticia. Lurch finishes coating Gomez's face in the shaving foam. He briefly steps aside to pick up an electric razor, which has just been powered up by Fester._

 **Harvey**

Actually, that's not what I was gonna ask about…

 **Morticia** _(surprised)_

It wasn't?

 **Harvey**

No, uh. I wanted to ask Mr Addams this – okay: do you think that if you had full control over your tongue, that you would be able to speak if we took the tracheostomy tube out?

 _Gomez thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

You know, I can't say for certain. But no matter! I'd be dead!

 **Harvey**

Okay, okay. Just assume you'd recovered your ability to breathe on your own too, Mr Addams. Then, what do you think?

 _Gomez thinks hard about it once again. Concentrating on one question has never been easy for him, but he is hit with a eureka moment of realization._

 **Gomez** _(genuinely fiery with pride at this realization he's just come to)_

I suppose so! _By George_ \- what a proud thing it is to be so close to regaining a faculty!

 **Morticia**

Ah, and you have done so with such grace, such sterling intensity, such inner beauty – such _savoir faire_.

 **Gomez**

Tish – those French words!

 _Gomez can't do anything about the French words in the position he's in (Morticia standing behind him) so he flicks his eyes and eyebrows up and down to signal to her his passion. Morticia knows too well what he must be feeling. She dips her head down to kiss him on the lips, which she does. Shaving foam gets all over Morticia's face, which she wipes off with a tissue._

 **Gomez** _(taken by surprise)_

Sorry, my dear, forgot about the foam!

 **Morticia** _(stroking his half-trimmed hair)_

Pay it no mind, darling – it only adds to your charm.

 **Harvey**

Well – Mr Addams – _again_ , one more question – _sorry_ , I know I only said one, but/

 **Morticia**

/Well, one or two questions, which is it?

 **Harvey**

Two, but/

 **Morticia**

/Mr Addams exerts _such_ energy answering questions, doctor! _Please,_ try not to tire him out – we are going stargazing in the swamp this evening.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

It's true, Harvey old boy!

 _Gomez looks at Morticia as best he can. Clearly the thoughts of later on have overtaken him._

 **Gomez**

Ah, what a night it shall be! Just the two of us, reposing in those reeds, bathed in the cold, red glow of Betelgeuse!

 **Harvey**

Well, yes, listen – okay. Mr Addams – I have with me a device that we can attach to your tracheostomy tube. It's a valve.

 _Gomez and Morticia seem to be following so far._

 **Harvey**

And, when attached, it _would_ allow you to speak – _if_ you could move your tongue. Right now, I suppose all you would be able to do is make sounds. Groan and moan a bit. Is that something you think you could benefit from having in place? We wouldn't need to take your tracheostomy out. It would still breathe for you.

 **Morticia**

My, Gomez. I _do_ miss hearing your moans... they're so becoming...

 _Gomez processes this, not even hearing Morticia's risqué statement. Morticia has stopped cutting his hair as she too processes it. Grandmama also drops Gomez's hand, emphatic._

 _Lurch, who is walking back over to them with the razor in hand, drops the razor, and groans._

 **Harvey**

Okay - so, it may take a while for you to come to a decision and that's fine. I'm just going to go out to the car to get the valve. Alright?

 **Gomez** _(putting on a positive front, but internally a bit troubled)_

Bully! Do as you wish!

 _Harvey exits. As he does, Grandmama looks at Gomez._

 **Grandmama**

Son, d'you think you'd benefit from being able to groan?

 _Lurch groans._

 **Morticia** _(raising an eyebrow, trying to convince him)_

It doesn't seem to have done much harm to Lurch, dear.

 _Gomez eventually "speaks"._

 **Gomez**

I'm _not_ _sure_...

 **Morticia**

Oh, and why so, dear? It's true that you still can't move your tongue all that well.

 **Gomez**

It _does_ give me a little trouble, that's true.

 **Morticia**

Now, I know it wouldn't be with words, darling, but - if we could get you used to vocalizing again, it could speed up the rate at which you regain your speech!

 _Gomez thinks about it. He's very conflicted._

 **Gomez**

I suppose.

 _Gomez seems deep in thought._

 **Morticia**

What's troubling you?

 _Lurch finally arrives back beside Gomez, and powers up the razor, beginning to shave his master's stubble off._

 **Grandmama**

Tell us, Gomez! Can't help ya if ya won't tell us!

 **Gomez**

To moan and groan in front of the children... Tish... is that unbecoming?

 **Lurch**

I see your point.

 **Grandmama**

Lurch moans and groans in front of the children, and they don't think _he's_ unbecoming!

 **Morticia**

But that's his decision, mama. Gomez would have no choice but to groan.

 _Gomez is going back and forth over this decision. He has concerns. A jolt of insecurity hits him as he thinks about the children._

 **Gomez** _(a hint of sudden panic behind his eyes)_

Tish - do you think it'd change the way they see me?

 _Morticia tries to dispel her husband's fears._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez_! Of _course_ _not_! You're their father – they see your wit - your wisdom - your intutiton - all on a daily basis, on display for all the world to see! Banish that unwelcome thought from your mind!

 **Grandmama**

 _I_ get where he's coming from, though. I remember back when he was a baby - and believe me when I say, he was not too unlike how he is now! Diapers, dribbling, a tube down the throat, fed tens of medications through a tube – and with that valve – all the moaning and groaning! Not to mention needing others shaving his stubble! Practically history repeating itself!

 **Morticia**

Mama, _please_! You'll embarrass him!

 _Gomez's face has now been completely shaved other than his moustache. Lurch reaches into his coat_ _for some wet wipes to clean the rest of the foam off his face._

 **Morticia**

But Gomez, just think! It would assist so magnificently in your recovery! You could use your voice to call for me whenever you need me!

 **Gomez** _(a little befuddled)_

But Tish! I imagine I'd be fairly quiet at first. How would you hear me?

 **Grandmama**

Simple, a baby monitor! You know, I think I still have Gomez's old one in the attic!

 **Morticia**

 _Mama, please!_ Gomez does _not_ wish to be infantalized under his own roof!

 _Gomez shakes his head, Grandmama's words driving him back to the other side of the argument again._

 **Gomez** _(shaking his head, looking in pain)_

Ah, querida, I mustn't! It's too unbecoming! I must retain a shred of dignity! For my family! For the children!

 **Morticia**

But imagine, darling, how much easier it shall be to speak once your tongue livens up a bit! You won't need to wait!

 **Gomez** _(very easily swayed)_

That's true.

 _Morticia kisses Gomez on the top of his head._

 **Morticia**

Gomez... I know you're embarrassed, but think of how we could find the good in it.

 _Gomez smiles weakly but knowingly._

 **Gomez**

Trust you, cara mia, to keep me on the proverbial straight and narrow.

 **Morticia**

So you'll take the valve?

 _Gomez continues to think about it, and maybe resist it a bit, but he really, really wants to be able to speak again vocally. He still worries about how his children will see him, though. Morticia walks around to face him._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling.

 _Morticia looks up at the others._

 **Morticia**

Mama, Lurch, can you leave us to speak in private for a moment, dears?

 **Grandmama**

Typical.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Grandmama**

Don't be so easily influenced, Lurch.

 **Lurch**

Follow me.

 _Lurch leads Grandmama out the door, leaving Morticia and Gomez alone._

 **Morticia**

Darling, I thought it best to speak about this in private.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Excellent thinking, my dear.

 **Morticia**

You're still worried, aren't you, Gomez?

 _Gomez darts his eyes around to make sure he doesn't see any of the children before continuing._

 **Gomez**

Me? Worried?

 _He thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

Absolutely! I just can't shake the thought that the children might get the wrong impression.

 **Morticia**

What sort of wrong impression do you mean, darling?

 **Gomez**

Well, mama said it herself! I'd be like a newborn.

 **Morticia**

Don't listen to her, Gomez. She's just acting foolish. The children know well that you are _not_ cognitively impaired - they'll understand that your making noises is the start of your speech returning, _not_ your cognitive functions worsening!

 _Gomez pauses._

 **Gomez**

Cara... what if they think I'm in pain?

 **Morticia** _(her heart aches for him)_

Oh, darling. Surely _that_ can't be what you're worried about?

 **Gomez**

Morticia - I'm no child, you know. I saw how you reacted to those procedures yesterday - you couldn't bear to watch! If a woman like you - with such an even disposition, such poise, such calmness in the face of adversity - could react as you did, what of the children?

 **Morticia**

Oh, but Gomez, darling, you _won't_ be groaning in pain - or so I hope. You'll be vocalizing to _communicate with us!_

 **Gomez** _(sadly befuddled again)_

But what difference does it make? A groan is a groan, after all.

 **Morticia**

My dear... I know your voice. I know that glorious sound.

 _Gomez seems even more downtrodden._

 **Gomez**

You do?

 **Morticia**

Of course!

 _Gomez swallows - is he trying to hold back some emotion?_

 **Gomez**

Ah, cara mia... sometimes, I almost believe I've forgotten how I sounded.

 **Morticia**

 _Sound_ , Gomez. Not soun _ded._ It isn't gone.

 **Gomez**

It feels... _irretrievable_...

 **Morticia**

Gomez, please. You're torturing yourself.

 **Gomez** _(continuing on this dramatic tangent)_

 _Doomed_ to a life spent _mute_ , indebted to my eyes and the synthetic tone of American Male 4 to unleash my inner thoughts upon the world...

 **Morticia**

Gomez, don't be silly. You're far from mute. All we need is to change that valve, and in a few weeks, I have no doubt that youll be speaking again - in your _own voice_. Now - what's worse? The children to hear their father groan from time to time, in a genuine attempt to communicte with them, or, the children to have a miserable, downtrodden father at the complete mercy of a mere temporary depression? I think we both know what the answer is.

 _Gomez is brought back to Earth. He knows he's being dramatic._

 **Morticia**

Dear, this is no different to any other time you've been depressed. It happens quickly and overwhelmingly, and then it subsides, as if it had never even happened at all.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Forgive me, querida.

 **Morticia**

There is nothing to forgive you _for_ , darling. Mark my words - a month from today, you will be able to speak - not just _make noise_ \- but speak to us.

 _Gomez grins. He hopes so._

 **Gomez**

You optimist.

 **Morticia**

How could I not be? I am married to Gomez Addams!

 **Gomez** _(grateful)_

How could I bear this heavy burden without you at my side, Tish?

 **Morticia**

I shudder to imagine it, darling.

 **Gomez**

You always know just what I need to hear, cara mia! Without fail!

 **Morticia**

I should hope so, being your wife.

 _Gomez gives her an apologetic smile. He knows he is acting like a fool._

 **Morticia**

 _There's that smile again, dear!_ So becoming. So effortless for you now. You _are_ a _warrior_.

 **Gomez**

To quote my ravishing wife, how could I not be?

 _Morticia pets his cheek, before kissing his nose. Gomez smiles, contended._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling, you charmer. You_ have more charm on no limbs and four wheels than most do on five limbs and a spare tyre!

 **Gomez**

Flatterer.

 _Morticia leans in and kisses his nose again._

 **Morticia**

 _Querido..._

 **Gomez**

Tish... that's Spanish...

 **Morticia**

I know.

 **Gomez**

...say it in French...

 _Morticia smiles wickedly at Gomez, almost whispering in his ear._

 **Morticia**

Mon cher...

 _Morticia then stretches out her arm, moving it slowly along, in front and across Gomez's mouth, so he can kiss it._

 _They're in the middle of this arm kissing when Harvey returns to see it's just Morticia and Gomez._

 **Harvey**

What happened to the others?

 **Gomez**

Bad behaviour, old man! Mrs Addams gave them a piece of her mind!

 **Morticia**

Oh, now Gomez, it wasn't _that/_

 **Gomez**

/She was _masterful_!

 _Even now, to her, he's irresistible. She strokes his hand while the doctor speaks to them._

 **Morticia**

Darling...

 **Harvey**

Well yes, here's, uh, the valve.

 _Harvey holds it up. It's small and cylindrical._

 **Harvey**

Want to try?

 _Gomez hesitates very briefly, Morticia squeezes his hand. He looks into her eyes, and then gives her a weak but resolute nod._

 **Gomez** _(with dignity)_

Yes, doctor, I would.

 **Harvey**

Wonderful. I thought you would! Let's get this fitted... and see how much vocalizing abiility you've got. This'll show you how much further you'll have to go to get speaking again!

 _Gomez nods. He maintains a dignified expression and air, but Morticia can tell that further down, he still seems kind of nervous. Morticia just keeps squeezing his hand to reassure him._

 **Harvey**

First thing i'm gonna do is deflate this cuff on your trach. You're gonna feel all this air come up out though your mouth and nose. It's gonna allow you to generate sound, okay? When the vent breathes next, it's gonna bring the air up through your vocal chords, vibrating and - okay. Let's see.

 _He deflates the cuff, and makes all the vent adjustments._

 **Harvey**

Right, that's done, and now, I'm just gonna _briefly_ disconnect you _._

 _Harvey takes the tube that adjoins from Gomez's neck to his ventilator, replaces the valve that's in it with the new valve, and then quickly slots it right back on._

 **Harvey**

Okay, done.

 **Morticia**

That was it?

 **Harvey**

Now, you may not feel like you can do anything at first - do you mind if I just help you try to make some noise?

 **Gomez** _(maintaining a wicked grin despite his nerves)_

Knock yourself out, old man.

 **Harvey**

Okay. Sorry about this.

 _Harvey places both his hands on Gomez's chest_

 **Harvey**

Next time the vent takes a breath for you - just try to literally make any noise. Anything at all. You understand?

 **Gomez**

Loud and clear!

 _The vent takes the next breath, and Harvey pushes against Gomez's chest, hard. Gomez concentrates - hard, and manages to make what sounds like the weakest, most pathetic whisper noise ever. It doesn't even sound like a groan, just a louder breath - maybe there is a slight hint of voice in there, but the sound he makes is just the tiniest bit more than the mere sound of an exhale. But, in fairness, he is operating on whisper-level volume._

 _Gomez's eyes also go very wide. The change in the ventilator throws him when he tries to use his voice and it actually lets him do *something*. This is all happening rather fast, after all._

 **Harvey**

Try to make noise on the _exhale_ , Mr Addams.

 _Gomez nods, seeming a smidgeon panicked. On the next exhale, Gomez makes another noise, identical to the first one. It sounds like, again, nothing close to a groan, speaking, or words. Just more like a loud breath with the hint of a whisper-level bit of voice behind it._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez - _again!_ I think I hear something!

 **Gomez** _(steely, determined now, gritting his teeth a little, eyes twinkling with a sort of childlike hope)_

I think I hear something too!

 **Morticia**

As loud as you can go, mon cher!

 _Gomez's passion ignites something within him, and he makes the loudest whisper-breath noise yet on this third exhalation. Again, this is nothing even close to anything you or I would consider a sound that could have intent or communication behind it. But, there's the vestige of a voice in the quiet whispered noise._

 **Harvey**

The ventilator changes are a bit of a learning curve, but you took to the eyegaze so well that I figure you'll adapt to this too.

 **Morticia**

Oh, he will. Of course he will. He's an Addams! His strength of character is greater than the strength of most's entire bodies!

 **Harvey**

Are you happy to keep this in, Mr Addams? I can talk you through how to properly adjust to the valve after your wife finishes cutting your hair.

 _Now it's in, Gomez is seeing himself get ever closer to speaking again in his own voice. His insecurities have become secondary as he's spurred on by determination to recover at all costs._

 _On the exhale, he makes the same noise, about as strong as last time, and nods._

 **Harvey**

Good nod, Mr Addams, have you been working on that?

 **Morticia**

Why, of course. He nodded at me all morning.

 **Harvey**

So, you're going to keep it in?

 **Gomez** _(jovial now, beaming, as the possibilities flood his mind)_

Indubitably! I'll be speaking within the week!

 **Harvey**

Now, Mr Addams, I/

 **Morticia**

/That's the spirit, Gomez!

 **Gomez**

A spirit!? Where?

 **Morticia**

Oh no, darling. I meant your _inner_ spirit. Your _fighting_ spirit!

 **Gomez** _(devilishly grinning again)_

Cara mia, you _are_ the _clever one_.

 **Harvey**

So, I'll just head back to the car to bring in the instruction manual. You finish with his haircut and I'll be right back. I knew you'd take well to this. I know it sounds scary, especially considering you're still dealing with a lot of paralysis around the mouth area, but it's so worth it when you hear even the first _hint_ of your own voice again.

 **Morticia**

He was worried his groaning might upset the children.

 **Harvey**

Mr Addams, your children will understand you're just trying to communicate! I'll sit them down and tell them myself that you're not in pain, or deteriorating in some way. Trust me, it would be wrong of me not to.

 _Gomez gives a thankful nod and a near-closed mouth smile to express his gratitude. Morticia looks at him._

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear doctor Harvey, thank you. Gomez, did you hear that?

 **Gomez**

Indeed I did, querida mia - Harvey! You're all class. I think I'll buy the hospital, and give you a raise!

 **Morticia**

Oh, that _is_ a good idea, dear.

 **Harvey**

A raise? Well, uh, _thanks_ , but it's just part of my/

 **Gomez**

/Nonsense! You've earned it, old man!

 **Morticia**

Thanks to you, my husband has started on the road to verbal communication once more!

 _Harvey turns to Gomez, who on the next exhale, does another repetition of the same sound he made before._

 **Harvey**

Your voice will strengthen over the next few weeks or so, even if your tongue stays toneless. So you will, at least, be able to audibly groan.

 **Morticia**

Better than nothing at all, darling. Think how useful it'll be for communicating with us in a pinch!

 **Gomez**

Astutely put, my sweet!

 **Harvey**

So - what do you think? Is the valve what you thought it'd be? What are you thinking?

 _Gomez considers the question. Gomez smiles wickedly again, looking at Morticia and then at Harvey with some restored confidence._

 **Gomez**

By George, Harvey! I think you're onto something!


	41. Day 149

**_AN:_** _Updated the fic picture. Wanted something sad and sweet. Not that the last one wasn't, but I didn't think the Morticia in the first one looked enough like Carolyn's Tish. So here's attempt number two. Also didn't realize how long this one was gonna be. Enjoy anyway! Leave a review, tell your friends who like somewhat sappy inspirational educational script form fanfictions!_

 _This chapter is meant to just get across the fact that if you've got a physical disability, kids are cruel._

* * *

 _Today is the day of Wednesday's Science Fair in school. She's prepared her project, which is all about the volcanic eruption at Pompeii, and hasn't been able to stop telling her parents about it for days. Lurch helped her construct a very accurate (scarily accurate, really) replica of Mount Vesuvius, complete with explosives and home-made lava._

 _Morticia encourages Gomez to attend with her, to get him out in the world, interacting with people and hopefully gaining confidence in dealing with prying, over-curious strangers (or near-strangers) again. Morticia expects that the most curious people will be children, so this is why she thinks the Science Fair is a perfect place. Though, he would have attended anyway. He wouldn't miss this for the world. He's in very, very good spirits going to the Science Fair. He isn't able to stop smiling, thinking about how creative and smart Wednesday's project is. He and Morticia both expect her to win._

 _The two of them enter through the back door, which is the only wheelchair-accessible entryway into the school hall they're aware of. As Morticia wheels Gomez through the door, they see the hall, decked out with many different booths and stands set up by the students. Morticia and Gomez look around, seeing if they can see Wednesday._

 _They don't immediately see her, so they start going past the booths, looking for her. Some of the projects catch their eye._

 **Morticia**

Darling, look.

 _Morticia points to a booth, as subtly as she can, to direct Gomez's attention to it._

 **Morticia**

"A History of Antivenoms". Whoever would want to counteract venom?

 **Gomez**

Counteract venom? That's twisted!

 _They turn around a corner and see another booth that horrifies them. Morticia audibly gasps. Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

"Photosynthesis – the way plants eat".

 _He shakes his head again, troubled by this._

 **Gomez**

Outrageous, Tish. Simply outrageous. Have they never heard of an African Strangler?

 **Morticia**

Cleopatra _only_ eats burgers. I couldn't have her engaging in… I can't even say it.

 **Gomez**

You mustn't, cara mia. It's too vile a word!

 **Morticia**

Let's move on, darling. I can't look at this misinformation any longer.

 **Gomez**

Good thinking, querida mia. I can't stand to know that the truth is being stifled in our public schools!

 **Morticia**

Right you are. Why, Gomez - you can't stand at all.

 **Gomez**

Irrefutable logic, cara.

 _Morticia smiles at him as she wheels him down an aisle of benign projects that don't offend them._

 **Gomez**

Aha! Morticia! Look! There is hope yet for our schooling system! Not every child's worldview is warped!

 _Gomez is referring to a project done by a student entitled "How Many Times In Life Will You Walk Past A Serial Killer?"._

 **Morticia**

Oh, how interesting. I wonder how many?

 _The two of them stop by the project, which is done by a kid who gawks at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Hello, young lady. My husband and I were curious, and wanted to ask – how many times _will_ we walk past a serial killer? It's a terribly exciting notion, after all.

 _The kid shrugs, feeling like a cheeky troublemaker._

 **Kid**

He's your husband?

 _Morticia places her hands on Gomez's shoulders, not liking where this is going already, and deciding to be resolute about it._

 **Morticia**

Yes he is, and I am the world's most fortunate woman to be able to say so.

 _This sets Gomez aflame with passion. He turns to look Morticia in the eye, smiles broadly, shivers in that lovestruck way he is want to do, and shoots her a playful, wicked gaze, eyes glinting._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Morticia** _(coyly, stroking his cheek)_

 _Later, Gomez…_

 **Kid**

Well, let me see.

 _The kid points to Morticia._

 **Kid**

You'd probably walk past about 36 serial killers in your lifetime, on average.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how thrilling! Isn't that/

 **Kid**

/And you…

 _The kid points to Gomez._

 **Kid**

…you'll walk past zero, 'cause you can't walk.

 _The kid giggles, and shoots a look at her friend in a nearby booth. They both start to giggle. Morticia looks utterly scandalized. Gomez just looks a bit surprised, but actually not as horrified as Morticia._

 **Morticia**

How dare you pick on my husband like that! I demand an apology on his behalf right now! Go on – tell him you're sorry.

 _The kid shrugs, and pulls the curtains of her booth closed. Morticia turns to look at Gomez, livid._

 **Morticia**

Darling. Had I known Wednesday shared the classroom with such insolent little things, perhaps I would have been less keen to put her back in public school!

 _Gomez nods, agreeing._

 **Morticia**

Are you alright, dear? Children can be so tactless.

 **Gomez**

Nothing bruised but my pride, querida!

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez…_ you ought not to be ashamed for even a second. These children don't understand the effect their words can have. Come, let's keep looking for Wednesday.

 **Gomez**

Excellent thinking, my dear. Onward!

 _Morticia continues wheeling her husband down these aisles of booths. They admire and gasp at some of the projects._

 **Morticia**

Ah, dear, look at that one – "Creating an Environment for Spiders".

 **Gomez**

Warms your heart, doesn't it?

 **Morticia**

Maybe our future is safe in the hands of the next generation.

 _Gomez sees another project that warms his heart. A dorky kid in a manual wheelchair waves at him as they pass._

 **Gomez**

"How Accessible Is This School?". Well? What's the verdict, young man?

 **Kid #2**

Not very!

 **Gomez**

Indeed! I've noticed it myself!

 _Morticia squeezes her husband's shoulder, happy that that interaction went much better._

 **Gomez**

Can't argue with science!

 _Another kid runs up to Gomez and Morticia, and stops them. The kid runs out of a booth that's up ahead that has a sign reading "What Is Paralysis?" hanging overhead._

 **Kid #3**

Hi!

 **Gomez**

How do you do?

 **Morticia**

Hello! I'm Morticia Addams, and this is my dear husband, Gomez.

 **Kid #3**

How'd you feel about hearing some science?

 **Gomez**

Wonderful! That's why we're here, after all.

 **Kid #3**

Okay.

 _Kid #3 steels himself._

 **Kid #3**

Why are you in a wheelchair?

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's shoulder again, as a reassurance in case this goes south. Gomez seems a bit surprised that this came up again, but answers the boy's question._

 **Gomez**

Well, I got sick, and/

 **Kid #3**

/Sick with what?

 **Gomez**

Well, it was an autoimmune disease. Guillian-Barré syndrome. And/

 **Kid #3**

/Okay, I have it!

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow._

 **Gomez**

You do?

 **Kid #3**

No, not the disease! I have the answer!

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

That _does_ make more sense.

 **Kid #3**

So, you have paralysis – or more accurate, severe weakness, which was caused by an immune attack on the nerve cells of your peripheral nervous system and its support structures!

 _Gomez looks at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

By George, this child's a genius!

 **Kid #3**

No, I just really like Wikipedia.

 **Gomez**

That'll do it, old boy!

 **Morticia**

That was very well researched.

 **Gomez**

Without a doubt! Excellent diagnosis, child!

 **Kid #3**

Thanks. This is my first year without cheating!

 _Gomez and Morticia look at each other again, smiling._

 **Morticia**

Why, isn't that bold of you? I do hope you're friends with our daughter, Wednesday. You would be an awfully positive influence on her. In fact, do you know where we might find her?

 **Kid #3**

Yeah – she's over that way.

 _Kid #3 points to the next aisle. Morticia smiles gratefully._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, dear. Good luck!

 **Kid #3**

Thanks for letting me diagnose you!

 **Gomez**

Our pleasure!

 _Morticia wheels Gomez away, the two of them cheered up by this encounter._

 **Morticia**

Dear, he _was_ delightful.

 **Gomez**

And smart, too!

 **Morticia**

He and that last boy were both so kind about your disability. Perhaps I was too quick to pass judgment on the school as a whole.

 **Gomez**

No matter, my dear!

 _Gomez, feeling better about being very disabled in public now, decides to smile at a bunch of kids who start staring at him as soon as they catch sight of him._

 **Gomez**

How do you do, kids? Ever seen a man who can't move?

 **Kid #4**

No.

 **Kid #5**

 _I_ have.

 **Gomez**

You have?

 **Kid #5**

Yeah, just now.

 **Gomez**

My, you're a sly one!

 **Kid #4**

Leave him alone, Todd.

 **Kid #5**

Whatever. You're Pugsley's dad. Everyone knows you can't move.

 **Kid #4**

Pugsley always talks about you.

 _This warms Gomez and Morticia's hearts. They smile lovingly at one another._

 **Morticia**

Oh, he's such a loving boy, Gomez. Just like his dear, sweet father.

 **Gomez**

And his mother!

 **Kid #5**

Aren't you Wednesday's parents, too?

 _Morticia and Gomez both nod._

 **Gomez**

We are indeed, my boy!

 **Kid #4**

Well, Mrs Addams, you'd better push Mr Addams fast, because she's about to blow up her volcano!

 _The two kids walk away, seeming to head in Wednesday's booth's direction._

 _A glint of manic excitement appears in Gomez's eyes. He shivers, grinning._

 **Gomez**

 _Capital!_ Lay on!

 **Morticia**

Very well. Come, Gomez.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez away from them and in the direction Wednesday's booth is in. They're still looking for her._

 **Morticia**

But where is Wednesday? She isn't expecting you. Oh, Gomez – it'll be such a lovely surprise for her.

 **Gomez**

I can't wait to see the look on her little face.

 **Morticia**

You sweetheart.

 _They turn into the next aisle, and indeed, they see Wednesday in her booth, adding more gunpowder into the crater of her Mount Vesuvius replica._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, darling?

 _Wednesday looks up, and sees her mother first._

 **Morticia**

Look who's come to see you!

 _Wednesday then sees her father, gets excited, and runs out from the back of the booth to meet them. Wednesday runs over to Morticia first, who gives Wednesday a kiss and smiles broadly at her._

 **Morticia**

Say hello to your father, dear.

 _Wednesday stands on the footrests of the powerchair, and clambers up onto her father's lap._

 **Morticia**

Now, Wednesday, be _gentle_ with your father, remember, it hasn't been long since his operation.

 **Wednesday**

Hello, father!

 **Gomez**

Hello, Wednesday!

 **Wednesday**

Can I drive?

 **Gomez**

By all means!

 _Wednesday grabs the joystick at the end of one of Gomez's armrests, and drives the two of them back to the booth. Morticia follows, making sure Wednesday doesn't accidentally hurt her father. She's not worried about Wednesday driving, however. She's a much better driver than Gomez is._

 _When they reach the booth, Wednesday slips down off her father's lap and returns back inside the booth._

 **Wednesday**

Wanna see?

 **Morticia**

Why, of course, darling!

 **Gomez**

Fire away!

 **Morticia**

Shoot for the heavens!

 _Wednesday pulls a string on her fake volcano, and seconds later, the inside of it starts leaking fake (but remarkably real looking) lava. It drips onto the floor. Gomez and Morticia beam._

 **Gomez**

Bravo, Wednesday!

 **Morticia**

Such a lovely colour!

 **Gomez**

A _beautiful_ shade of red!

 _Wednesday beams._

 **Wednesday**

I'm saving the eruption until the judge arrives!

 **Gomez**

Good thinking, my dear! Very sensible!

 **Morticia**

I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see it.

 **Wednesday**

You should see the toads at Edith's booth!

 **Morticia**

Toads? My, Gomez, this _is_ a treat.

 **Gomez**

Where is it, Wednesday?

 _Wednesday points to her friend's booth on the end of the aisle._

 **Wednesday**

Tell them you're my parents! She only lets VIPs pet the toads.

 **Gomez**

Shrewd thinking!

 **Wednesday**

Just get back before the judge comes!

 **Gomez**

Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world!

 **Morticia**

You've put so much work into it!

 **Gomez**

And what a blast it shall be!

 **Morticia**

Legendary!

 **Gomez**

For the ages, querida! A blast that shall ring out on the pages of history!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. You have such a way with words…

 _Morticia wheels Gomez down the aisle to Wednesday's friend's booth. There is Edith, holding a toad._

 _Morticia doesn't even open her mouth before Edith starts speaking._

 **Edith**

Are you Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

Why, yes I am! How did you know, dear?

 **Edith**

Wednesday said her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world.

 _Morticia is intensely flattered. She looks down at Gomez, who is smiling knowingly._

 **Gomez**

Chip off the old block, that Wednesday!

 **Morticia**

Why, I'm flattered. What a thing to say!

 **Gomez** _(smiling wickedly)_

It's so true, querida mia. So true.

 **Morticia**

I always do try to look my best.

 **Edith**

Well, Wednesday was right! You're much prettier than my mother.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I'm sure that isn't true.

 **Gomez** _(grinning devilishly)_

 _I'm_ sure it is.

 **Morticia** _(smiling, flattered, even though she thinks that was a hair too cheeky)_

 _Gomez!_

 **Edith**

No, my mom has a hunchback.

 **Morticia**

 _See?_ Hunchbacks are so becoming on women, I've found.

 **Edith**

You're still prettier.

 **Morticia**

Well, I'm sure it's very close.

 **Edith**

I dunno. But anyway. If you're Mrs Addams, where's Mr Addams?

 **Gomez**

Right here, child!

 _Gomez shoots Edith a friendly smile and a nod._

 **Edith**

No, that can't be right.

 **Gomez** _(taken aback)_

It can't?

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, Edith. Can't you see that Addams chin?

 **Edith**

Well, yeah, but Wednesday said her father was the _strongest_ man in the world.

 _Gomez and Morticia look at each other, both utterly moved._

 **Morticia**

What an angel…

 **Gomez**

Oh, Tish, she's so thoughtful!

 **Morticia**

Well, she's right, dear.

 _Gomez is flattered and a bit embarrassed._

 **Gomez**

 _Well_ , I/

 **Morticia**

/She is! No ifs or buts about it, darling! You _are_ the strongest, bravest, most courageous man ever to drive his wheels across the face of this Earth!

 _Gomez hesitates slightly, before entering more speech into the text-to-speech program on his computer, grinning devilishly._

 **Gomez**

Can't argue with that.

 **Edith**

Um, hello?

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes. Where were we?

 **Morticia**

She was backhandedly insulting you, dear.

 **Gomez**

She was?

 **Edith**

Wednesday said her father was the strongest man in the world.

 **Morticia**

And you think this glorious man you see before you couldn't _possibly_ be the world's strongest, isn't that right?

 **Edith**

And Wednesday said her mother was a nurse. This isn't Mr Addams, that's just one of your patients.

 **Morticia**

Why ever would I bring a patient to Wednesday's Science Fair over my own husband?

 **Edith**

Maybe Mr Addams doesn't like science?

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! I'm a veritable man of science, young lady!

 **Edith**

But how can _you_ be Wednesday's father? You don't look strong at all!

 _Gomez looks up at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

She's got a point.

 _Morticia is scandalized._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez!_ Don't encourage her. Edith? Rest assured, this man _is_ my dear, valiant, _strong_ husband, and he most certainly is Wednesday's father. Your assumption fails to take into account his overwhelming, all-encompassing _inner_ strength. Who else but Gomez Addams could retain such a brave face in the face of such devastating illness and adversity?

 **Gomez**

Well, _no one_ , but/

 **Morticia**

/That's right! Now, Edith, I want you to apologize to Mr Addams.

 **Edith**

Sorry.

 **Gomez**

Apology accepted, child! Now – onto the toads, eh?

 _Edith goes to hand them a toad, but the two of them hear Wednesday calling from her booth. The two of them look up, and see a small crowd gathered around her booth, including a familiar figure holding a judge's clipboard._

 **Gomez**

If you'll excuse us, Edith, I believe Mount Vesuvius is calling.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how exhilarating, Gomez!

 **Gomez**

And if I'm not mistaken, our old friend Mr Hilliard appears to be the judge!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, dear – you're right. That is Mr Hilliard! What a delightful surprise!

 **Gomez**

But Tish - he hasn't seen me since his nervous break!

 _Morticia nods, making the same realization._

 **Morticia**

That was almost half a year before you became sick, dear. I suppose your condition will come as a bit of a shock to him.

 **Gomez**

Poor devil, he was quite irrational last we saw him.

 **Morticia**

But think, Gomez – if he's back in the education system, he must have received the help he needed! Seeing such a change in you may not get to him as much as it may have before!

 **Gomez**

Astute thinking as always, cara mia! Let's go greet the old bean!

 _Morticia wheels Gomez up the aisle to the crowd. Gomez begins greeting Mr Hilliard before Mr Hilliard can even process what he's seeing._

 **Gomez**

Hilliard, old bean, how are you? Gomez Addams here, and I'm sure you remember my lovely wife, Morticia –

 **Morticia**

How do you do, Mr Hilliard?

 **Gomez**

\- now, don't be alarmed by this change in my physicality – only temporary, my boy! Only temporary!

 _Hilliard finally processes everything, and his face seems to go white with shock._

 **Hilliard**

 _Addams…_

 **Morticia**

Indeed, Mr Hilliard. How delightful to see you again.

 **Gomez**

Do hope you got over that blue funk you were in, old man!

 **Morticia**

You _were_ so irrational last time our paths crossed.

 **Hilliard**

No, no, no. Back up. Wait just one second. What the devil happened to you?

 _Gomez can't shrug his shoulders, but he makes a "shrugging" face._

 **Gomez**

Been a little under the weather these past few months, old boy! But soon, I'll be right as rain!

 **Hilliard**

" _Under the weather"…_

 **Morticia**

Indeed. Dear Mr Addams has been enduring the aftereffects of a devastating autoimmune disease. But he's doing so well. Aren't you, darling?

 **Gomez**

Certainly, my dear! It's the old Addams spirit!

 **Hilliard**

I just _knew_ you'd get yourself into some unenviable situation like this…

 **Gomez**

I do have a way of attracting disaster!

 **Morticia**

It's one of his best qualities.

 _Gomez shivers._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Hilliard**

But what brings the two of you here?

 **Morticia**

Why, Wednesday's science project, of course!

 **Hilliard**

W – W – Wednesday's…?

 **Gomez**

Seems she's ready to let it blow, old man!

 **Morticia**

You'd better pay attention!

 _Morticia guides Hilliard back to the front of the booth, and right in front of the volcano._

 **Gomez**

Fire away, Wednesday!

 _Wednesday pulls a different string on the volcano, and then takes a sprinkle of gunpowder. She holds it in her hand above the volcano._

 **Wednesday**

Three!

 _Gomez and Morticia look at each other excitedly. If it were possible for Hilliard to go any whiter, he would be._

 **Wednesday**

Two!

 **Morticia**

Better cover your ears, darling.

 _Gomez quickly nods._

 **Gomez**

Good thinking, cara.

 _Morticia grabs a pair of soundproof headphones from the back of Gomez's powerchair. Usually, he only wears this when the nurses or other strangers are giving him physiotherapy or massaging him, if he needs a moment of quiet. But right now, Morticia puts them on, and puts her hands over her husband's ears._

 **Wednesday**

One!

 _Wednesday drops the gunpowder in the hole._

 _Nothing happens for a few seconds. Morticia and Gomez are still excited, as they know that it takes a few seconds for the explosion to occur. But Hilliard, who expected something shocking to happen immediately, breaths a huge sigh of relief._

 **Hilliard**

Well, what a shame. Looks like whatever hare-brained scheme you had planned/

 _But Hilliard puts his head over the volcano crater to look inside right as he says this. This just happens to occur right at the moment of the reaction. The volcano explodes, sending black smoke up in a plume, coating Mr Hilliard in ash. Also, the model itself explodes, sending paper maché pieces across the floor. One paper maché piece hits Gomez. Morticia takes her hands off his ears._

 **Gomez**

Zounds! Right in the bag, Tish!

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling!

 _She takes the headphones off._

 **Morticia**

What incredible aim!

 **Gomez**

She's a little Uncle Fester, that one!

 **Morticia**

A direct hit on your colostomy bag… darling…?

 **Gomez**

Yes, dear?

 **Morticia**

Do you think she planned it?

 **Gomez**

Of course not! I think she's quite fond of it!

 **Morticia**

Oh yes, that's right, dear.

 _Hilliard finally reappears as the smoke disperses. He's covered in grey ash._

 **Hilliard**

 _ADDAMS!_

 **Morticia**

Oh, how wonderful. Look how moved he is.

 **Gomez**

Positively ecstatic!

 **Morticia**

Screaming with delight!

 **Gomez**

Another triumph for science!

 _Hilliard spins around and glares at Morticia and Gomez._

 **Hilliard**

Would you _stop it?!_

 _The crowd is sort of giggling at Hilliard._

 **Morticia**

Ah, see how taken in the crowd is, Wednesday! What a marvellous job you've done!

 **Gomez**

I hope you're seeing this, old man!

 **Morticia**

Oh, what a wonderful moment in Addams history! Wednesday, dear?

 _Wednesday waves at her mother._

 **Wednesday**

Yes, mother?

 **Morticia**

What an unforgettable explosion! Your father and I are so proud! Look at Mr Hilliard! He's shaking in amazement!

 **Hilliard**

 _Unforgettable?_

 **Morticia**

Why, yes, Mr Hilliard! Isn't it?

 **Gomez**

That plume of smoke hit at least eight feet!

 **Morticia**

A record, I'm sure! How often can you say you've seen a true-life re-enactment of Mount Vesuvius?

 **Hilliard**

Unforgettable. _Unforgettable._ Well, Mrs Addams, you're not _completely_ wrong. I swear, on my mother's grave, I will _never_ forget this _abhorrent_ excuse for a project, this _bastardization_ of scientific practice, this ridiculous sideshow act you call a Science Fair entry!

 **Gomez**

Please, Mr Hilliard. You'll make her blush.

 **Morticia**

Isn't that nice, dear, he's unable to hold it in!

 **Gomez** _(to Morticia, not selecting it to be read aloud by the text to speech programme, just typing his opinion so Morticia can see it without Hilliard hearing it)_

Wednesday's a winner for sure!

 **Morticia** _(low voiced)_

Oh, Gomez, the trophy will look so wonderful next to Pugsley's detention notes.

 **Hilliard**

Let me announce the winner so I can get out of here!

 _Hilliard takes his clipboard, wipes some more soot off his face, and begins to head in the direction of the stage._

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear – they're announcing the winner.

 _Hilliard strides past them, shooting each one death glares. Morticia and Gomez both smile at Hilliard as he passes._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, darling, come here!

 **Wednesday**

Coming, mother!

 _Wednesday scampers out of the booth and over to her parents. She immediately climbs back up onto her father's lap, without asking. She lays against him, sort of squishing Gomez a bit but not hurting him._

 **Wednesday**

Do you think I'll win?

 **Gomez**

Of course, my dear!

 **Morticia**

Your command of the detonation was masterful for a girl your age. It was near flawless!

 **Gomez**

Perfect!

 **Morticia**

Very sophisticated.

 **Gomez**

Exactly how I taught you!

 _Morticia lovingly sighs._

 **Morticia**

You two _are_ such _gluttons_ for explosives.

 _Gomez types, and activates the program to read aloud his words. He looks at Wednesday as best he can as soon as he does this, though._

 **Gomez**

You're a true Addams, my darling. Couldn't be prouder!

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, father. I'm glad you came.

 _Gomez quickly types another response._

 **Gomez**

My pleasure!

 _Wednesday turns around, awkwardly pressing even more into her father, squashing him and putting undue pressure on parts of his body that don't need it, but eventually finds her spot and hugs him as best she can._

 **Wednesday** _(face buried in her father's chest)_

Mother?

 **Morticia**

Yes, my angels?

 **Wednesday**

Could you help father hug me?

 **Gomez**

Excellent idea, Wednesday! Tish! Your delicate touch is needed!

 _As Hilliard, still covered in soot that he's trying to wipe away, walks onto the stage, getting ready to announce the winner, Morticia very gently obliges. She presses a button on Gomez's powerchair to tilt it back even further than it already was, so that Gomez is positioned somewhere between sitting and lying down in the chair. Then, she gently takes Gomez's left arm and lifts it around Wednesday, positioning his fingers out straight so that there's a better chance his hand won't slip off Wednesday. She does the same with his right arm. The "hugging" position is a little unnatural, but with the angle of the chair now adjusted, his still near-completely limp arms (save for the tiniest movement in the wrists and a bit more in the hands) stay in place for the time being._

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, mother.

 **Gomez**

That better?

 **Wednesday**

Yep!

 _The sound of someone testing a microphone rings out._

 **Hilliard**

Testing… testing. Yes. Alright. Can everybody hear me?

 **Morticia**

Ah, darlings, they're announcing it

 _Gomez and Morticia watch with smiles on their faces, expecting a sure Addams victory. Wednesday just hugs her father, not even looking. She's just happy her parents saw her project._

 **Hilliard**

So… here to announce the winner with me is Principal Jennings.

 _Scattered applause. Gomez grins cheekily at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

Ah, Mr Jennings, that lecherous dog!

 _Morticia smiles too, Gomez's smile, to her, is infectious._

 **Morticia**

Such a shame he and Ms Dunbar went their separate ways.

 **Gomez**

Not everyone is as fortunate as we are, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

How true.

 _There's a brief pause before Jennings starts speaking._

 **Jennings**

Hello, students.

 _No one in the crowd responds to him._

 **Jennings**

I said, hello students!

 _Gomez lowers the volume on the text-to-speech synthesizer way down._

 **Gomez** _(as quietly as he can, with Morticia and Wednesday still able to hear him)_

Should we say hello? We aren't students.

 **Morticia**

No, dear, it wouldn't be right.

 **Jennings**

Whatever – moving on. Today I'm here to announce the winner of this year's Science Fair. We'll start in reverse order. The third prize goes to Lenore Dalton and her project "The Moon: Why Do We Need It?"

 **Morticia**

Ah, _Lenore_. What a beautiful name.

 **Gomez**

Morticia?

 **Morticia**

Yes, dear?

 **Gomez**

Why _do_ we need the moon?

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, what a silly question…

 _Beat, Morticia thinks, while others clap. Lenore goes up to receive a certificate._

 **Morticia**

…I don't know.

 **Wednesday**

Moonbathing?

 **Morticia**

Why, of course. That must be it.

 **Gomez**

Capital.

 **Jennings**

Second prize goes to William Hernandez, and his project "Gluten 101: Busting the Myths".

 _More scattered applause. Gomez shakes his head, grinning in disbelief, eyebrows raised._

 **Gomez**

A whole project on gluttony!

 _Gomez does his seizure-looking convulse-laugh, but both Morticia and Wednesday know he's laughing. Both of his arms do slide off of Wednesday and out of the hugging position, though._

 **Gomez**

Kids these days.

 **Morticia**

Darling, I believe he said "gluten". It's something to do with bread.

 **Gomez** _(still smiling, as if he didn't notice his own arms flopping back down onto his lap)_

 _Querida mia_ , I haven't eaten bread in months! How was I to know?

 **Morticia**

That's true, dear.

 **Jennings**

And now for our first prize…

 **Morticia**

Oh, here it is!

 **Jennings**

The winner of this year's science fair is Danielle Dodson, with her project "How Do Lightbulbs Work?"

 _Gomez and Morticia immediately look at one another, both utterly shocked._

 **Morticia**

I don't believe it.

 **Gomez**

Robbed!

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, dear, pay this _no mind_. I shall be having words with the faculty regarding this outrageous misunderstanding!

 **Gomez**

This miscarriage of justice!

 **Morticia**

This failure to see talent, even as it stands right before them!

 _As Danielle Dodson receives her prize, Jennings and Hilliard hastily pose for one photograph before they both leave the stage immediately._

 **Gomez**

What fiend can lay their eyes on a masterpiece of this magnitude, only to rebuke it?!

 **Morticia**

Dear, I believe Mr Hilliard must have been paid off.

 **Gomez**

Of course, querida! The poor devil's been pressured by the parents.

 **Morticia**

We simply must demand justice. For poor Wednesday's sake.

 **Gomez**

That poor girl – all it takes is one undue decision and her creative spirit is crushed!

 **Morticia**

But we shall remedy it, my angel.

 _Wednesday wipes away a tear or two, disappointed, yes, but not incensed like her parents._

 **Gomez**

Tish! Wednesday's crying! Wipe her eyes for me, I can't stand to see it.

 **Morticia**

Oh, you poor dears. Wednesday, darling, your mother and father will demand justice!

 **Wednesday** _(suddenly more interested)_

You mean like revenge?

 **Morticia**

Well, not exactly like revenge, but – oh – Gomez, look. It's Mr Jennings.

 _Indeed, Mr Jennings is approaching them, stony-faced._

 **Morticia**

How do you do, Mr Jennings? Morticia Addams, Wednesday's/

 **Jennings**

/Yes, I know both of you. I need all three of you to follow me, please. On Mr Hilliard's request.

 _Gomez and Morticia exchange hopeful glances as Jennings leads them to the edge of the room, and down a corridor. Morticia wheels Gomez, with Wednesday still sitting on his lap. They begin to go down the corridor._

 **Morticia**

Mr Hilliard's request?

 **Jennings**

Mhm.

 **Gomez**

Eureka!

 **Morticia**

Hm?

 **Gomez**

By George, cara mia, I think I've figured out what's happening!

 **Morticia**

What?

 **Gomez**

Mr Hilliard must have thought Wednesday's volcano too advanced! At too high a standard to fairly rank her!

 **Morticia**

And he's taking us aside to reassure her that as far as quality goes, she is the true victor! Oh, Gomez, I think you're right. Mr Jennings, isn't that right?

 **Jennings**

Just keep following me, Mr and Mrs Addams.

 _Jennings leads them down another corridor. This is a corridor they haven't seen before._

 **Morticia**

Where are we, may I ask?

 **Wednesday**

The fire door corridor.

 **Morticia**

Oh, how exhilarating. So, are you going to tell us the truth, Mr Jennings?

 _Jennings reaches the very end of the corridor, and opens the double doors that make up the fire escape route. Gomez immediately notes that it's wheelchair accessible._

 **Gomez**

Going outside, old man?

 **Jennings**

Yes. Follow me.

 **Gomez**

Talk about privacy.

 _Finally, Jennings leads Morticia, Gomez and Wednesday out onto the tarmac yard behind the school. No one is around, though it's not far from the car park._

 **Morticia** _(expectantly)_

So, Mr Jennings? What do you have to say to Wednesday?

 _Jennings takes another look at Morticia and Gomez, both smiling broadly. He sighs, and clears his throat. Then, he takes a blue slip of paper from his front pocket, and throws it in the Addams's direction. It lands on Gomez's footrest. Before Morticia can pick it up, Jennings speaks, his voice full of irate fury._

 **Jennings**

See you on Monday.

 _At that, Jennings spins around, and slams the fire doors shut, leaving Morticia, Gomez and Wednesday outside one of the back entrances of the school. Befuddled, they all exchange glances._

 **Morticia**

Could this be some kind of practical joke, dear?

 **Gomez**

Seems like it.

 **Morticia**

But Hilliard always _was_ quite the irrational one, wasn't he, darling?

 **Gomez**

That's true. Maybe we ought to get in touch with a psychiatrist.

 **Morticia**

I do hope this isn't another one of his nervous breaks, don't you?

 **Wednesday**

What's on the slip, mother?

 _Morticia nods, leans down, and picks up the slip. Her face flushes, and she beams. Pride seems to bursts out of her as soon as she reads it._

 **Morticia**

Ah, _darling_ , look! Gomez, dear – read that.

 _Gomez scans the paper as Morticia holds it up to him. He also smiles, looking fit to burst with pride._

 **Morticia**

The rest of the week's detention, darling.

 **Gomez**

Cracking good show, young lady!

 **Morticia**

You couldn't be doing your father and I more proud!

 **Gomez**

Say, Wednesday - how about we stop for some fried chicken bones on the way home? What do you say?

 _Wednesday beams._

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, father!

 **Morticia**

Ah, that's your father. Generous to a fault. Now, remember, dear – only a sixteen pack of chicken bones this time – twenty upsets your stomach.

 _Morticia wheels Gomez, Wednesday still sitting/laying against his lap, out from behind the building, and back in the direction of the car park, where Lurch is waiting in the wheelchair-accessible van they've got on loan from Uncle Blob. Morticia looks down on her husband and her daughter, and can't help but feel good about where Gomez's recovery is going. He's still exactly the same person as he was before he got sick, and a day like today proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt._


	42. Day 150

_**AN:**_ _Super short one, didn't intend to post any more this weekend but then, I had a quick, sort of corny idea and wanted to throw it in. It's probably a bit cheesy, but what can you do?_

* * *

 _Morticia is asleep in bed, next to Gomez. It's about four in the morning, and Morticia is dreaming._

 _In the dream, Morticia wakes up with a jolt, and looks around the room. It's light outside in the dream, and Gomez is beside her. Dream-Morticia turns to look at him, and is astounded – in this dream, he's completely well again, looking somewhat concerned for her, lying on his side. She takes a moment to process the shock._

 ** _Gomez_**

 _Cara…_

 ** _Morticia_**

 _Gomez?!_

 _Dream-Morticia reaches for his hand. He squeezes it, so unspeakably in love with her, trying to discern why she's panicked seeming. He smiles broadly at her, speaking quietly and softly._

 ** _Gomez_**

 _Cara mia…_

 ** _Morticia_**

 _Oh, Gomez…_

 _She goes to move closer to him, but is immediately pulled out of it. She wakes up, for real this time, with a jolt, not too unlike the dream. She sits up, catches her breath, and looks around the room. The dream was tantalizing. She swallows, holding back a sudden feeling of profound upset. She still breathes kind of heavily, in a little bit of a tizzy._

 _She turns to look at Gomez. To her surprise, he's awake. The eyegaze computer is on, its brightness level turned to the lowest possible. He's reading an article about The Methods of Execution Of The Spanish Inquisition. She can see his expression lit in the dull light of the computer. His head is turned and looking at her, staring, concerned. He quickly flicks his gaze back to the computer, loads the text-to-speech program, and composes his message to her, which is read aloud in the unemotional synthetic voice of American Male 4, though the look of concern on his face lets Morticia know what he's feeling – a sudden, unexpected concern._

 **Gomez**

Cara…

 _Morticia sighs, looking at him. She, like in the dream, reaches for his hand, looking for it under the covers. She squeezes it. Like in the dream, Gomez does his best to squeeze back. Though he squeezes very weakly, there's no mistaking it for anything else. Even a weak, tiny squeeze is still a squeeze._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _She lies back down beside him, still holding his hand._

 **Morticia**

Squeeze my hand again, darling.

 _Gomez obliges, repeating the movement. It barely qualifies as a squeeze – but it does qualify._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia…

 **Morticia**

I can't believe you're still awake. You're usually such a heavy sleeper. I set up the computer for you at midnight!

 **Gomez**

Just feeling a touch restless, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Would you like me to move any limbs, dear?

 _Gomez weakly shakes his head, closed-mouthedly smiling._

 **Gomez**

No, no, I'm alright.

 _A short pause._

 **Gomez**

Though, behind my right ear _is_ itching a tad…

 **Morticia**

Of course.

 _Morticia scratches behind his ear vigorously for a few seconds, to ensure the relief will be satisfactory._

 **Morticia**

How does that feel, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Wonderful, my love.

 _Gomez smiles at her, feeling a bit silly that his life has come to this, but nonetheless overwhelmingly grateful._

 **Morticia**

I'm sorry if I startled you, darling.

 _Now, Gomez smiles broadly at her – his smile is completely back to normal, and thus is the same as the one in the dream._

 **Gomez**

 _Querida_ … how could you ever startle me?

 **Morticia**

You are an angel.

 **Gomez**

A lovestruck one.

 _Morticia smiles wickedly._

 **Morticia**

And a devil.

 **Gomez**

I suppose I can be rather indecisive.

 _Morticia strokes Gomez's cheek._

 **Morticia**

Darling…

 _Gomez turns his head and kisses her hand._

 **Morticia**

Ah, splendid head movement, Gomez!

 _Gomez turns his head back to respond to her._

 **Gomez**

For you, my dear – anything.

 _Gomez then immediately turns his head back, and kisses her hand more times._

 _Morticia closes her eyes and sighs, immediately comforted. Feeling Gomez's kisses on her hand, she relaxes completely, thinking that perhaps her dream wasn't as much a far cry from reality as she'd initially thought._


	43. Day 153

_Morticia is sitting at Gomez's bedside. He's, as usual, on his computer, his eyes darting all around and blinking to compose the words he wishes to communicate. It is hard to imagine his eyes were ever paralyzed at all, the way he moves them. Morticia has moved her sun chair next to the bed, and holds Gomez's left hand, trimming his fingernails._

 **Morticia**

How novel it is to trim your nails, darling. You used to bite them so terribly.

 _Morticia takes a look at the screen, and sees Gomez in the middle of a quiz._

 **Morticia**

Still taking that quiz, darling?

 **Gomez**

Indeed, my dear! Very tough. Brings me right back to law school.

 **Morticia**

Well, I should hope a law quiz would. Are you nearly finished?

 **Gomez**

I _don't_ _know_ … I've been stuck on this _one irksome question_ for ten minutes straight!

 **Morticia**

Which question is it?

 **Gomez**

Question 2.

 **Morticia**

My, that _is_ a tough quiz. Well, rest assured, darling. Your mental acuity shall triumph!

 _Gomez grins._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Morticia**

Do you really think it will help you defend Mama?

 **Gomez**

Of course it will!

 _Gomez grins at Morticia, who has started massaging his hand, before looking back, so he can communicate with her._

 **Gomez**

Ah, I can't wait to get back in the courtroom!

 **Morticia**

Mama will be so grateful. She really ought to realize that not everyone at the flea market likes an unlicensed vendor. Or the taste of henbane tequila.

 **Gomez**

Poor devils don't know what they're missing!

 **Morticia**

It is such a pity that our city lacks Mama's refined taste. But, _c'est la vie..._

 _Gomez looks at Morticia, his head movement stronger by the day._

 **Morticia**

I spoke French.

 _Gomez keeps grinning, swept up in her beauty and allure._

 **Gomez**

That you did, my darling.

 _Gomez shivers._

 **Gomez**

Drives me _wild._

 _Morticia smiles back at him._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling,_ you're so tempestuous.

 **Gomez**

I can't help it. That French enflames me!

 _Morticia holds Gomez's hand to her lips, and kisses it, speaking quietly – sensually._

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher…_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_

 **Morticia**

Yes, my darling?

 **Gomez**

When you whisper soft and low like that…

 **Morticia** _(playfully)_

Does it set your Castilian blood aflame?

 _Morticia kisses his hand again, and gently sets it down. She gets up from the sun chair, instead moving to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, edging closer to Gomez before stopping right before his shoulders. She leans down, and kisses him on the lips, which he is able to reciprocate. She pulls back and just looks at him._

 **Gomez**

Tish, you were never lovelier.

 **Morticia**

You are so handsome, darling.

 **Gomez** _(being honest and sort of humble, but the expression on his face tells Morticia he's just musing on how lucky he is)_

Sometimes I almost feel unworthy.

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, dear.

 _She runs her fingers through his hair. Gomez is enraptured. He gazes deep into her eyes, and then to the computer. He's so overwhelmed with love that he has to wax lyrical about how much he adores her._

 **Gomez**

When you play with my hair, Tish…

 _She keeps running her fingers through his hair, before sliding her hands behind Gomez's head, cradling it and lifting it a bit. She gently slides another pillow from the other side of the bed underneath his head, giving his head some more elevation, but she purposefully places it in a position in which it doesn't directly face the eyegaze computer, so it leaves him unable to communicate._

 _Gomez raises his eyebrows and smiles wickedly, as if to say "cara, my computer" in a playful way. Morticia shakes her head, her hands going back to playing with his hair, sending shivers down Gomez's spine. He wants nothing more than to leap out of bed and shower her with affection._

 **Morticia**

Say something, Gomez.

 _Gomez raises his eyebrows again, having not really expected this, but delighted to oblige. He smiles, sort of pre-emptively embarrassed about how pathetic his voice is going to sound._

 **Morticia**

It is the only thing that could make this moment more perfect, darling.

 _Gomez wholeheartedly agrees. He nods softly. He knows she doesn't mean "say a coherent word" – just to use his voice. Completely beguiled by the sensuality of the way she plays with his hair, he wants nothing more than to be able to shout to the world, to declare his love from the rooftops. He lines up his next breath on the ventilator with when he's going to try to speak. When the moment comes, seconds later, he digs deep and tries to work every single muscle he can possibly muster even a tiny amount of control over, and puts it all into one gargantuan effort to generate noise._

 _The noise he generates – and make no mistake, he does generate noise – is a very quiet, extremely breathy whisper-grunt. Like before, it's not just entirely breath, though. Morticia is able to detect the quiet voice behind the sound. It's not just the sound of an exhalation, there's absolutely something to it. This is Gomez's absolute best attempt. To both of them, it sounds just a slight bit stronger than the noise he made last time they tried this. Gomez's eyes glint with immediate delight and satisfaction. He'd thought maybe he'd be a little sheepish about how pathetic his voice sounded, but the genuine thrill of having made a noise with his own vocal cords completely eradicates this previous thinking._

 _Morticia, after hearing this, sighs. She is completely enchanted when he's able to do even the littlest things these days. She immediately leans back down, and kisses Gomez on the lips again, which again, he reciprocates. They just kiss for a minute or so, completely and utterly in love. When Morticia finally pulls back to look her husband in the eyes, she places her hands on his shoulders._

 **Morticia**

What did you say, darling?

 _She brings the computer back into Gomez's line of sight. Gomez immediately starts composing a sentence, grinning coyly._

 **Gomez** _(unable to stop grinning)_

I wish I knew myself.

 **Morticia**

I suppose that's what others mean when they talk about whispering "sweet nothings".

 _Gomez shivers again, shaking his head, unable to process how enchanted he is by everything she does and says._

 **Gomez**

You _are_ a clever one.

 **Morticia**

And you, a dashing, debonair/

 _But they're interrupted by Wednesday's voice from outside. She sounds a bit upset._

 **Wednesday**

Mommy, daddy!

 _The two of them are dragged right back down to Earth. Morticia hurriedly gets up and sits back on the sun chair, but retakes Gomez's hand, and kisses it, massaging it as the two of them hear Wednesday's footsteps draw closer. Gomez looks at Morticia, concerned._

 **Gomez**

You know it's serious when she calls us that.

 _Morticia nods, also wearing a concerned expression, as Wednesday opens the door._

 **Wednesday**

Mommy, daddy!

 _Gomez immediately starts composing a sentence on his computer as Wednesday runs to her mother, sitting on her lap. Morticia gently sets Gomez's hand and arm back down by his side on the bed, and wraps her arms around Wednesday._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 **Gomez**

Wednesday, my pet! What's wrong?

 _Wednesday steels herself._

 **Wednesday**

I had a fight.

 **Gomez**

A fight? Did you win?

 **Morticia**

At school?

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 **Morticia**

Against who, dear?

 **Wednesday**

Bullies.

 _Gomez laughs devilishly. Well, it would be devilish if he had his normal voice – instead, he makes a wheezing sound. It does sound, if you're being really generous, like it could be a quiet, wheezed, laugh._

 **Gomez**

I have nothing but pity for the braggart who dares bully an Addams!

 **Wednesday**

I fought back.

 _Gomez beams, ear to ear, upon hearing this._

 **Gomez**

Well, I hope you settled things the traditional way, and challenged the fiend to a duel!

 **Morticia**

Now dear, we mustn't sink to their level.

 _Wednesday hesitates before saying this as quietly as she can, the upset palpable in her voice._

 **Wednesday**

They were saying mean things about father.

 _Morticia gasps, shooting Gomez a look. In turn, Gomez just goes a bit pale and a look of hurt appears on his face._

 **Gomez**

They were?

 _Morticia puts her hands on Wednesday's shoulders and looks her in the eyes._

 **Morticia**

On the other hand, maybe sinking to their level isn't such a bad idea.

 **Wednesday**

I got detention all next week.

 **Morticia**

Well done, angel.

 **Wednesday**

They made me cry.

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday. Don't let any preposterous little jabs at my expense get you so downcast!

 **Wednesday**

I couldn't help it. They were so mean.

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, you did the right thing in standing up for your father, in standing up for the Addams family honour!

 **Wednesday**

I had to, they said the meanest things ever.

 _Wednesday buries her head deeper into her mother's hug. Gomez is growing a bit more incensed._

 **Gomez**

What did those fiends say?

 **Wednesday**

You'll be upset.

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, darling, I'm sure your father can handle it.

 **Gomez**

We have strong constitutions, us Addamses! We can stomach any vile canard thrown our way!

 **Wednesday**

Are you sure?

 **Gomez**

I certainly am.

 _Wednesday moves out of the hug, and turns to look at her father._

 **Wednesday** _(quietly, nervous to say it)_

Well, they said after they saw you at the science fair that they felt sorry for mother.

 **Morticia**

Me?

 **Wednesday**

They said they couldn't imagine how miserable you must be.

 **Morticia**

Outrageous!

 **Wednesday**

And then they said that they would prefer a dead father over a father with your sickness.

 _Gomez closes his eyes – these hurt more than he thought they would. The kids at the school have chosen their words venomously. He composes himself and speaks to Morticia._

 **Gomez**

Nothing more than ableist drivel, my dears.

 **Morticia**

Was that all?

 **Wednesday**

They said I should pull out the tube that makes you breathe.

 _This one doesn't seem to get to Gomez, who shoots Wednesday a cheeky smile._

 **Gomez**

Eh, that one's not so bad! Just as long as you put it back!

 **Morticia**

I don't think that's what they meant, darling.

 **Wednesday**

And that they'd almost forgive everything else if you could just speak, but you can't do that either.

 **Gomez**

Aha! Utter nonsense, my dear! I _can_ speak!

 **Morticia**

Show her, Gomez.

 **Wednesday**

You can?!

 **Morticia**

Your father's been working on this for a few days now – you'll have to listen very closely, but soon, when your father's tongue gets stronger, he'll be able to turn these noises into words. Ready, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Ready!

 _Gomez waits for the next breath to trigger on the ventilator, and repeats the same whisper-grunt noise as he did before, putting every ounce of effort he can muster into making sure it's as loud as his body can physically allow at the present moment. Like last time, the whisper-grunt is quiet, but audible if you know what to listen out for. Also like last time, it's stronger than it was the other day. Like Morticia before her, Wednesday hears the very weak sound of Gomez's actual voice making a grunt behind the breathy exhalation._

 _Wednesday's little mind is blown. She slides off her mother's lap and runs around to the other side of the bed. She climbs up onto it and sits beside her father, who looks at her, tilting his head a little bit to the right to see her better._

 **Wednesday**

Do it again, please?

 _Gomez nods sheepishly – anything for his daughter._

 _As the next breath comes around, Gomez repeats the noise again – it's about as loud as all the other ones that day. The amount of effort he manages to concentrate as a man with the attention span of a goldfish is an impressive feat in and of itself. Wednesday giggles when she hears her father make the noise again. As quiet and as objectively pathetic as the noise is, Gomez feels prouder every time he's able to replicate it._

 **Morticia**

Now, darling, don't tire him out. It's still the afternoon and your father is quite busy today.

 **Gomez**

Online shopping, Wednesday! A quadriplegic's best friend.

 **Wednesday**

You aren't sad at what the bullies said?

 **Morticia**

Angel. Of course we're upset. Aren't we, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Oh, yes! Tremendously!

 **Morticia**

And the two of us are going to have a chat about it once you've gone back to playing with your dynamite.

 **Gomez**

We are?

 **Morticia**

Of course. But for now, you must know not to pay heed to anything those bullies say about your father or I. I am _anything_ but miserable. Every moment I spend with your father, I adore him even more. To care for him in his hour of need is my vocation, and yes, of course, there are moments of sorrow, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. And Wednesday – you can speak with your father any time, show him any of your latest explosives, any new dolls you plan to behead, discuss school with him – he is here for you, whenever you may need him. If he were dead, you would have no such choice, now, would you?

 **Gomez**

You certainly wouldn't!

 **Morticia**

Right you are, dear. Any bully who tells you a dead father is better than a disabled one is unwell and irrational. Plus, they clearly have never met your father. I have met many _charming_ corpses – but he out-charms every single one.

 _Gomez can't wipe the smile of his face._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia…_ your words. They set my soul ablaze!

 **Morticia**

 _Darling_ … you tempestuous Latin.

 **Gomez**

Wednesday, your mother is right! Those vile, ridiculous canards are an insult to one's intelligence! What fiend dared utter them? And to an Addams, at that?!

 **Wednesday**

Clementine.

 **Morticia**

The one who did a project on serial killers?

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 **Morticia**

She _was_ the rude one, wasn't she, Gomez?

 _Gomez shakes his head, remembering her._

 **Gomez**

Not surprised, querida mia! Some just aren't right in the head!

 **Morticia**

You did the right thing, standing up to her.

 **Gomez**

Now, if you'll excuse yourself, Wednesday, your mother and I are going to have a little talk.

 **Morticia**

Right you are, dear. Fear not, darling – the two of us are going to put our heads together and handle this trying situation the way an Addams does best!

 **Wednesday**

By scheming?

 _Gomez grins._

 **Gomez**

Dreamer.

 **Morticia**

No, darling, by being civilised, and drawing up a clear plan of action.

 **Wednesday**

Sounds boring, but okay.

 **Gomez**

On your way now, young lady.

 **Morticia**

Don't be too loud with your dynamite. Uncle Fester is sleeping.

 _Wednesday nods, and hugs her father tightly, again, paying no attention to the recent colostomy operation he just had. Gomez moves his head a little, and kisses her on the head as she hugs him, before rolling off, running around back to the other side of the bed, and kissing her mother too before running out the door, closing it gently. The sound of her immediately scampering loudly to another room is immediately heard, no care paid to being quiet._

 _Morticia sighs._

 **Morticia**

Darling… are you upset?

 _Gomez seems to finally show his true feelings about the situation at this, and shoots a pained expression toward Morticia. He shakes his head, disheartened._

 **Gomez**

Tish, the child's day was ruined! For want of her own father's infirmity!

 **Morticia**

Why are children so cruel? Oh, Gomez, I wish I knew. You must know that every word I spoke to Wednesday was true – you mustn't allow these juvenile jabs to dishearten you. Clementine met you for two minutes in passing – she doesn't know the slightest thing about your inner strength, your burning passion, your boundless love…

 _Gomez nods weakly._

 **Gomez**

I know. I just wish for a touch more compassion, for poor little Wednesday's sake.

 **Morticia**

You always were so selfless, my dear.

 _Morticia sits back on the side of the bed, and takes both of Gomez's hands in hers._

 **Morticia**

You know, Gomez – we ought not to let young Clementine get away with this. I think we ought to call Clementine's parents and tell them just what their child has done.

 **Gomez**

Excellent idea, my dear.

 **Morticia**

We cannot allow her parents to stand idly by while their daughter insults and bullies my dear, sweet beloveds.

 **Gomez**

We'll invite them over for dinner – have a chat, parents-to-parents.

 **Morticia**

We shall be civil.

 **Gomez**

We'll reason with them!

 **Morticia**

Show them the effects their child's carelessness can have!

 _Morticia squeezes her husband's hands, and he squeezes hers back. This sets Morticia's heart aflutter._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara,_ you're so resolute.

 **Morticia**

And you, so noble. You've taken this wonderfully.

 _Gomez smiles._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, my darling. Those words you spoke to Wednesday – those words of reassurance – they were beautiful, Tish.

 **Morticia**

Dear, noble Gomez. They were as much for you as they were for her. I know you fret so about your disabilities. But you must remember, they no much define who you are as… your birthday. No, that's a bad example – you _are_ such a Sagittarius – let's see – as… the Earth's exact location in the Sun's orbit at the time of your birth – no, that's just your birthday again. Well, you see my point.

 **Gomez**

Clear as day, cara mia.

 _Morticia gets up, strokes her husband's hands and sets each one down at his side again. She walks around to the other side of the bed._

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, dear?

 _Gomez shivers, lovestruck, his wicked grin returning, a devilish glint in his eye. Morticia, too, smiles wickedly at him. There's a brief pause before the computer voice rings out in the silence._

 **Gomez** _(unable to contain his passion)_

 _Yes, cara?_

 _Morticia raises an eyebrow._

 **Morticia**

I believe... _we were in the middle of something._


	44. Day 156

_**AN:**_ _Boy howdy, this is the longest one ever. I just kept adding stuff until it was a mammoth of a chapter. So just sit down, grab a nice slice of cake, take a break if you wanna, and have a read. Fun (or not so fun) fact, so so much of what the Swensons say in this chapter is verbatim from a real life experience my family and I were privy to a few years ago, and of course, it is the main inspiration behind this chapter, as well as the reason it's so long (I kept remembering other things that were said and was like oh man this has to be in it!). So without further ado... uh... enjoy the fireworks, and enjoy genuinely angry Gomez and Morticia. I don't think I've had both of them get genuinely angry in a chapter before, but of course Morticia is angry because of how mean the Swensons are being to Gomez, and Gomez is angry because of how mean the Swensons are being to Morticia. We have some fierce honour defending going on here!_

* * *

 _As promised, Morticia and Gomez have invited over Mr and Mrs Swenson, Clementine's parents. The two of them intend to give the Swensons a firm talking to, letting them know, "parents-to-parents", what their daughter said to Wednesday. Morticia and Gomez do not intend to allow Clementine to get away with insulting the two of them to their daughter's face, and then, getting into a scuffle with her._

 _Morticia has prepared some food, wine and evening activities for the Swensons – soup and a berry dessert. After all, though Gomez doesn't seem to trust the parents of bullies, the two have decided to remain civil and reasoned with Clementine's parents – to take the noble approach. Morticia wears her best dress – not that anyone other than Gomez can tell, it's the exact same as all her other dresses. Gomez, in turn, wears his best suit – not that anyone can tell that either._

 _Dr Arendash is also in the house, though he's been instructed to just stay out of the way while Morticia and Gomez entertain their guests. Arendash is there for a very important reason. A new patch for the eyegaze software has been released – one that allows an even larger word bank for instant access to even more commonly used phrases – totally customizable, of course, as well. Gomez is already extremely fast on the eyegaze computer – faster than your average person – but this patch would allow his communication to be even faster. Arendash, Morticia and Gomez all decide that downloading the patch is an excellent idea – however, doing so means that Arendash has to take the eyegaze computer for about half an hour or so, just to install the new patch and reset the system to make sure it's all working as intended. This has the unfortunate consequence of leaving Gomez completely mute when the Swensons arrive, and entrusting all the speaking/communication to Morticia for at least the first half hour. Gomez mostly doesn't mind – he figures he'll be able to give them a piece of his mind as soon as Arendash is finished – no harm, no foul._

 _Morticia and Gomez are in the middle of their living room. Morticia, looking absolutely immaculate, brushes Gomez down with one of Lurch's brushes, just ensuring not a hair is out of place on him. Morticia desperately doesn't want Gomez to feel awkward or excluded, especially since most of Clementine's insults were because of his disability._

 **Morticia**

Ah, Gomez. Guests for dinner.

 _She sighs happily and smiles, looking lovingly down at him. Gomez smiles back, looking up at her._

 **Morticia**

Now, darling. Until Dr Arendash returns with your computer, if you agree with anything that's been said, make sure to use your voice. Now that you can, you simply must show it off!

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. Of course. Do nod as well, _and_ shake your head! But there is just something so becoming about your dear, sweet voice.

 _Gomez grins devilishly, waits for the next ventilator breath, and does the one vocalization he can do – his quiet, breathy, wheezy groan._

 **Morticia**

Sweet Gomez, you're spoiling me.

 _Gomez laughs - the movement still very jerky, but now with the added bonus of another tiny breathy groan-wheeze at the tail end of Gomez's breath. Morticia strokes his cheek, completely diverting his attention to her touch._

 **Morticia**

You are so irresistible, darling.

 _The ring of the doorbell distracts them, startling Morticia, who steps back, running a comb (where did she even get it from?) through Gomez's hair a few more times._

 **Morticia**

Lurch, dear?

 _Lurch has already entered the room, though, and passes the two of them by, heading to answer the door. Morticia sets down the comb and looks back at Gomez, resuming her stroking of his cheek._

 **Morticia**

How are you feeling?

 _Gomez, back to being enraptured by her touch, nods his head, eyes closed, smiling._

 **Morticia**

Good, good. Just be your usual, charming self, _bubeleh_.

 _Gomez's eyes immediately open, and he turns his head to kiss her hand, which is still stroking his cheek. He kisses it multiple times in quick succession. Morticia can't resist it, grinning coyly down at her husband._

 _Lurch reaches the door and looks out the window that's on it._

 **Lurch**

The Swensons.

 **Morticia**

Splendid, Lurch. Let them in!

 _Morticia takes Gomez's hand. His other hand is resting on the armrest of his powerchair, very near the joystick (which is one of the many ways he can drive his own wheelchair – though he usually uses the driving programme on the eyegaze computer – and even then, Morticia doesn't trust his driving enough so she just pushes him herself). Still with a very limited hand movement (he can only really move his fingers enough to push a button and weakly squeeze his wife's hand), he is able to move his fingers enough to push the joystick forward. The joystick is sensitive enough to be moved by his weak touch, and thus, he drives his wheelchair forward himself, approaching the stairs near the entrance hallway to the house. He has only done this a few times before. Morticia, her heart aflutter whenever Gomez manages to do even the smallest things on his own, softly gasps in surprise as her husband's wheelchair moves forward. Still holding his other hand, she begins walking by his side. She squeezes his hand as they move toward the stairs, and she feels him squeeze hers back. He is proving himself to be very capable today._

 _Lurch, meanwhile, opens the door, and Mr and Mrs Swenson enter the Addams home. They are your typical snobby couple. Mr Swenson wears a sweater vest and chords, as well as a flatcap. Mrs Swenson wears a very similar looking sweater vest, but with white chinos and Toms. The two of them look like unspeakably rich, "crunchy" parents – they named their kid Clementine, after all. Both of them look a mix of surprised and horrified by the mish-mash of the décor in the Addams house, both internally thinking that Wednesday's parents must clearly have no taste at all. Mr and Mrs Swenson are the kind of parents who refuse to believe that their saintly daughter could ever possibly have been the tiniest bit rude or offensive – and the thought that she might even be a bully is unthinkable. The two have accepted the invitation mainly to clear their daughter's name of any wrongdoing – surely, none of this can be true._

 _Lurch leads Mr and Mrs Swenson down the short hallway to the top of the steps, and removes Mr Swenson's flatcap._

 **Lurch**

Mr and Mrs Swenson.

 _Mr and Mrs Swenson stare at Wednesday Addams's mother and father. Both of them go wide-eyed with surprise, followed by acceptance and then knowingness. The two of them are both very, very surprised that Wednesday's father actually is disabled, after all. And pretty significantly, too. The fact that there's even a slight grain of truth to the cock-and-bull story they've heard comes as a huge shock. Of course, they would have known Mr Addams actually was disabled if they'd bothered to attend the Science Fair. The acceptance and knowingness comes in when the duo turn their gaze turns to Mrs Addams. Wearing all-black, decked out in the most dramatic dress the two of them have ever laid eyes on, they understand immediately the kind of theatrical, dramatic parent she must possibly be – probably loves stirring the pot, they think._

 _Mr and Mrs Addams both smile at them. Mrs Addams smiles, yes, but she does so with an intense look behind her eyes – Mr and Mrs Swenson think they get the message she's trying to send – "tread carefully" – but choose not to. Mr Addams, on the other hand, is probably just smiling due to his being "simple" – which both Mr and Mrs Swenson both automatically assume he is – he probably doesn't even understand where he is right now. A true shame, they think, for him to be unsuspectingly wheeled out as a prop in an attempt to slander their daughter when he really should be in a home for those with mental deficiencies as severe as the ones the Swensons just naturally assume he must have. They're just surprised he hasn't already started drooling._

 _Very, very awkwardly, Mr and Mrs Swenson edge closer to Morticia and Gomez, stepping down to greet them. Morticia reaches out her hand to shake Mr and Mrs Swenson's._

 **Morticia**

Hello. You must be Mr and Mrs Swenson, Clementine's parents. Wonderful to meet you both.

 _Mr and Mrs Swenson both take a moment before each shaking Morticia's hand._

 **Mr Swenson**

Daniel Swenson. Good to… meet _you_ both.

 **Morticia**

A pleasure.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Phoebe Swenson.

 **Morticia**

Hello, hello. I'm Morticia Addams.

 **Mr Swenson**

"Morticia"? Is that/

 **Morticia**

And permit me to introduce my family's brightest light, my dear husband, Gomez Addams –Wednesday's father.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Isn't "Gomez" a _surname_ , I'd thought/

 _Gomez does his signature breathy-wheezy groan, as a "hello!". Mr and Mrs Swenson hear him, and get super awkward, not knowing whether to comment on it – and certainly not even considering that the noise could have been voluntarily made._

 **Morticia**

Now, don't be put off by the nature of our invitation. We simply came to speak to you as like-minded parents.

 **Mr Swenson**

"Like-minded"…

 _Mrs Swenson nudges Mr Swenson, who shuts up._

 **Morticia**

Do join us by the fire. Lurch will provide us with some tea.

 _Morticia puts her hands on Gomez's shoulders, telling him with her touch alone that she'll wheel him from here – she doesn't want him to drive into the Swensons by accident. Gomez immediately understands, and allows Morticia to push him towards the fire, where she wheels him right beside her sun chair. She descends into the sun chair, and directs the Swensons to sit on the love seat, which has been moved by the fire for express purposes of their conversation._

 _Completely baffled, the Swensons awkwardly sit on the love seat, exchanging completely freaked glances._

 **Morticia**

Lurch?

 _Lurch turns around, now suddenly holding a teapot in one hand and balancing a tray with teacups on the other._

 **Lurch**

Tea, Mr and Mrs Swenson?

 **Mr Swenson**

What kind?

 **Mrs Swenson**

I only drink decaf.

 **Mr Swenson**

And I only drink detox teas.

 **Morticia**

My, how cosmopolitan. Well, I'm sure you'll find no trouble with Mama's special brew. She infuses it with Metamucil!

 **Mr Swenson**

Oh. How… lovely.

 **Mrs Swenson**

I'll just have water, if "Mama's special brew" has any caffeine in it.

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, Mrs Swenson. Wednesday's dear Uncle Fester has prepared his own brew, just for situations like this!

 **Mr Swenson**

Her dear uncle _what?_

 **Morticia**

Why, her Uncle Fester, of course! Lurch, dear? Pour mine and Mr Addams's tea, and fetch Uncle Fester for our guests.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

And Lurch?

 **Lurch**

Yes?

 **Morticia**

Tell Uncle Fester to bring his special brew – I believe it's finally going to see the light of day!

 _Lurch groans and nods, pouring Morticia and Gomez's tea, and setting the teacups down on the coffee table beside the sun chair. Morticia gratefully takes one of the teacups, and takes a sip, looking lovingly at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Ah, that Mama. Never afraid to try something new – I think I detect a hint of monkshood!

 _She sets the tea down, as Mr and Mrs Swenson stare, mouths just agape and faces completely drained of colour._

 _Morticia lifts up the teacup, stirs it a little with a tiny spoon (again, from where?) and looks at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Ready, darling?

 _Gomez nods, though to the Swensons, it was so negligible that it looks more like a completely unintentional, involuntary spasm to them. They sigh, feeling terribly sorry for Wednesday's poor, taken-advantage-of father – not even aware that he's being taken advantage of._

 _Morticia understands her husband's nod, and brings the teacup to her husband's mouth. He has better mouth control – as is obvious by his ability to smile, but he is still quite sloppy when it comes to taking food and drink by mouth. He slurps a sip of the tea up as best he can. As per, his slurping of the tea is sloppy and messy, with most of the tea being spasmodically swallowed, with another, smaller portion, dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin, which Morticia dutifully wipes away. This does absolutely nothing for Gomez's status as completely and utterly mentally absent in the eyes of the Swensons, who can't even look at him as he "struggles" to sip the tea. He's not struggling, of course, this messiness is normal and expected for him at the moment, an unfortunate but inescapable consequence of his recovering movement in his mouth._

 _Morticia and Gomez both fail to notice the Swensons' horror as Morticia brings the teacup to Gomez's mouth again, and he takes another equally sloppy and messy slurp of the tea. Morticia, again, wipes away anything that dribbles out of his mouth as quickly as it leaks, dabbing at her husband's face with a towel that she readied in the bag on the back of her husband's wheelchair._

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, isn't that lovely?

 _Everything she does, to them, seems further proof of Mr Addams being at the mental age of a newborn – including the way she talks to him. Of course, Morticia isn't infantalizing him in the way she speaks to him, she's simply including him in the conversation – but neither of the Swensons can tell that the brief little head movements or those pathetic, breathy little groans he sometimes does are actually 100% voluntary, and actually Mr Addams responding to her. So, to them, the entire conversation looks very much like Mrs Addams is just doing completely one-sided baby talk._

 _Mr and Mrs Swenson are desperate to make things less awkward._

 **Mr Swenson**

So. "Morticia" and "Gomez". Interesting names. "Wednesday", too. Are those nicknames?

 **Morticia**

Of course not! Dear me. I had thought it would be obvious that they aren't!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Oh. Well. I think Lester is quite a nice name, anyway.

 **Mr Swenson**

It's _Fester,_ Phoebe.

 _Mrs Swenson shuts up._

 **Mrs Swenson**

Never mind.

 _Lurch returns with Uncle Fester. He holds a glass container with a clear, brown-looking liquid floating in it. There's a film over the top, and something floating inside it._

 **Fester**

Well, Mr and Mrs Swenson! Good to meet ya!

 _Fester goes to the love seat and shakes both of their hands, before setting the glass container down on the coffee table with a slam._

 **Mrs Swenson**

You must be… Uncle… _Fester._

 **Fester**

Right you are! Gee, I must be famous 'round these parts. Well, I brought my special brew, Morticia!

 **Morticia**

Lovely, dear. You _have so_ wanted to share it with the world. And today, your chance has finally come!

 _Fester removes a cork from the glass container, and an untraceable smell wafts around the room._

 **Fester**

Now, if I coulda given it a couple more decades buried in the swamp, I woulda, but I just can't resist afternoon tea!

 **Mrs Swenson**

 _Decades?_

 **Fester**

Aw, don't worry about it too much – it's only been two.

 **Mr Swenson**

Well, that's very… reassuring, I/

 **Fester**

/No caffeine in sight! Or in taste – I suppose that one's more important.

 **Morticia**

Dear Fester is such a homebrewer.

 **Fester**

Wanna try?

 _Fester is so excited about it, beaming ear to ear, that the Swensons feel extremely bad saying no. The two of them look at each other, sigh, and then extremely reluctantly nod._

 **Fester**

Oh, goody! Right, well, hope ya enjoy!

 _Fester takes the Swensons' teacups, and pours the mixture into both of them. He proudly hands the two cups back to them, hands shaking with anticipation._

 **Fester**

Well, go on! Try it!

 _The Swensons both look like they'd rather die, steel themselves, and take the tiniest sip of the mixture. It tastes like a mixture of mouthwash, mould, vinegar and peaches. The bizarre taste throws them both for a loop, and though both of them want to violently gag, they both try their best to play it cool and swallow. They both manage it, though their faces are completely and totally drained of colour and they're both beginning to sweat._

 **Fester**

So?

 _The Swensons both plaster on half-assed fake smiles._

 **Mr Swenson**

 _Interesting taste!_

 **Mrs Swenson**

It's like nothing I've ever tried before!

 **Morticia**

Oh, now, you'll make him blush.

 **Fester**

Ahhh! You're too kind – I'm gonna have to try it myself! Morticia, Gomez? Sure you don't want some?

 **Morticia**

Oh, Fester, we do – but not now, we have matters to attend to with our guests, and two cups of tea would hardly be appropriate. Re-bury it in the swamp for a few hours, and we'll have some later tonight.

 _Fester seems satisfied with this._

 **Fester**

And ya know the best bit?

 _The Swensons seem extremely nervous to hear the best bit._

 **Fester**

If ya know anyone who's bald, this'll grow their hair right back!

 **Mr Swenson**

But how on Earth does/

 **Fester**

/Science!

 _Fester does not explain further._

 **Mr Swenson**

"Science"?

 **Fester**

Ya wanna argue with science?!

 **Mrs Swenson**

No, no. No we don't! Science! We _love_ science!

 **Fester**

Well, good. I'll fix ya up some in a cup to go when the two of ya get outta here.

 **Mr Swenson**

No, please, you don't need to/

 **Morticia**

/Oh, so unassuming. Not to worry – don't feel at all guilty about bringing some home. What are friends for?

 _The Swensons exchange glances – "friends"?_

 **Mr Swenson**

Yes. Yes. Friends! That's… what they're for.

 _Hoping this will get rid of Fester, he keeps going._

 **Mr Swenson**

Definitely… fix us up… some more of that… stuff.

 _Fester smiles broadly, and starts to bring the glass container out of the room._

 **Fester**

See ya later!

 **Morticia**

Take care re-burying it, Fester! You don't want to break the glass with your shovel!

 _But Fester has already left. The Swensons breathe a sigh of relief._

 **Mrs Swenson** _(whispering to Mr Swenson)_

It looked like kombucha but it tasted like… Listerine!

 _Morticia sighs, lovingly._

 **Morticia**

Dear Fester does love entertaining guests.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Yes. Entertaining. Very.

 _Morticia is about ready to start the actual dinner and start the discussion they invited the Swensons over to have. She rings the noose for Lurch, who reappears behind the Swensons, terrifying them._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Lurch? Will you bring out the main course, please? And please, darling, bring a bib for Gomez too.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 _Lurch spins around, and goes back to the kitchen to bring out the main course. Morticia's mentioning of a bib for her husband does nothing to dissuade the Swenson's assumptions about Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Now, I suppose we had better move on to our topic at hand.

 **Mr Swenson**

At last – uh – I mean. Yes. Yes! Let's talk about it.

 **Mrs Swenson**

I can't wait!

 **Morticia**

You can't? That's rather odd, I do suppose Gomez and I had rather been dreading bringing it up to such fine, upstanding parents as yourselves.

 **Mr Swenson**

Oh, no, we can't wait to get to the bottom of all this.

 **Morticia**

A wonderful attitude. Let me tell you from the beginning what happened.

 _Lurch returns. In one hand, he holds a tray with four bowls of soup balancing on it. In the other hand, he holds a white bib._

 **Lurch**

Dinner.

 **Morticia**

Ah, marvellous, Lurch. Do bring the Swensons their soup.

 _Lurch places the bowls of soup on the coffee table nearest the Swensons on the love seat. He then places the other two bowls of soup on the coffee table beside the sun chair Morticia is seated in. Morticia looks expectantly at the Swensons, who seem not to be offended by the soup, at the very, very least. It's an inoffensive orange-brown colour, probably tomato or vegetable soup. But, of course, it never hurts to check. Lurch then ties the bib around Gomez's neck, above his breathing tube, of course._

 **Mrs Swenson**

So, what kind of soup is it, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

Oh, just mushrooms and vegetables.

 _Both Swensons seem extremely relieved._

 **Mr Swenson** _(surprised)_

Oh. Sounds good. From Whole Foods?

 **Morticia**

From our own garden, Mr Swenson!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Even better.

 **Morticia**

I'm glad you like it. It's my own mama's secret recipe! So – shall we get into it?

 **Mr Swenson**

I guess.

 **Morticia**

Right. As I was saying, let me tell you from the beginning what happened.

 _The Swensons and Morticia get started on the soup. The Swensons actually seem to not mind it, and gratefully eat more and more to wash the taste of Fester's brew out of their mouths._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday came to Gomez and I a few days ago with a troubling story regarding a playground altercation she had with your daughter. Now, what she told us was rather upsetting for us to hear, as parents who are merely trying our best to raise a fine, upstanding citizen.

 **Mr Swenson**

I recognize it must be hard, Mrs Addams, to do what you're doing.

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. Parenting is, as I'm sure you know, one of life's greatest tests!

 _Morticia takes a few spoons of soup for herself as they speak, before setting her bowl down, preparing a spoonful for Gomez, and bringing it to his mouth. He dutifully takes it – as messily as he did with the tea – still plagued by highly effortful swallowing, a lot of leaking and dribbling from his mouth, and also some sweating, given how much concentration and physical effort goes into swallowing food. The bib catches some leakage, but like clockwork, Morticia wipes Gomez's mouth and chin clean of mess after each spoonful of soup._

 _The Swensons stare at Gomez, profoundly uncomfortable._

 **Mrs Swenson**

To raise a child in these circumstances must be very difficult. You must have so much work to do.

 _Morticia looks at Gomez, smiling, completely oblivious as to what the Swensons are implying._

 **Morticia**

Don't we all?

 _Morticia makes sure to give Gomez three full spoonfuls before wiping his mouth and chin for the last time, and then dabbing some of the sweat off his forehead. She is extremely delicate with him, very gentle, very compassionate, as she knows he might be a little bit embarrassed, especially in front of the Swensons._

 **Mr Swenson**

Well, yes, but _you_ , especially, must have, well – double the workload of a normal parent. And I hear you have another child, too.

 **Morticia**

Dear Pugsley. Though, he really has always been, though the expression is rather juvenile, a "daddy's boy".

 **Mrs Swenson**

Oh. I'm sure then things must be even tougher.

 **Morticia**

Well, admittedly, yes – sometimes I do find it harder to relate to his more rambunctious, masculine interests – but at heart, he _is_ a sensitive one.

 _The Swensons drop it – obviously Morticia is having an entirely different conversation._

 **Morticia**

But moving back on to what Wednesday told Mr Addams and I. She came into our room, tearful! Extremely unlike her – so we pried, and as it turns out, your daughter had previously ran into us at the Science Fair.

 **Mr Swenson**

Ah, yes. That. Some weird project about serial killers?

 **Morticia**

Well, I personally wouldn't say "weird", I thought the project was a very interesting choice. But, following her meeting us there, she decided to confront our dear Wednesday and insult my husband and I to her face! Saying such shocking things, at that!

 _The Swensons don't buy it for a second._

 **Mr Swenson**

Like what?

 **Morticia**

Well, she told Wednesday that she feels sorry for me. That my life must be miserable.

 _Silence from the Swensons._

 **Morticia**

And that it would be fairer on both Wednesday and I if Mr Addams were dead! That it would be better for him to die than to live like this!

 _Still, silence._

 **Morticia**

 _And,_ that Wednesday ought to pull out this tube in Mr Addams's neck.

 _She gestures to the tracheostomy, lifting up the bib briefly to show it to the Swensons again._

 **Morticia**

Without this, Gomez would suffocate and die. Poor dear can't breathe on his own.

 _Still, silence from the Swensons, who seem, so far, to actually be okay with everything their daughter supposedly said, even though they don't agree with her having said it to Wednesday. However – they only wouldn't agree in theory, because they still don't believe that their daughter actually said a word of what Morticia is suggesting she did._

 **Mrs Swenson**

Is that everything, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

No, she also said that perhaps everything else might be forgivable or excusable, but that Mr Addams couldn't even speak.

 _More silence._

 **Morticia**

That is all.

 _The Swensons take this in._

 **Mrs Swenson**

Mrs Addams – I'm, above all else, very, very sorry for your trouble. I hope you, at the very least, can recognize that. But no amount of single-parenting will make me feel sorry for you if you're ready and willing to make up stories about our child.

 **Morticia**

You don't believe our daughter?

 **Mr Swenson**

Let's just remove your daughter from the equation, because I'm sure that she, like your husband here, is just an innocent party in this whole mess who's been dragged into it for sympathy and drama. We really just want to know why you'd cook something like this up. Clementine is a straight-A student, never been in trouble in her entire life. Why would she say something like that, as true as it might be?

 **Morticia**

 _True?!_

 **Mrs Swenson**

Yes, Mrs Addams. I mean, it is true. You must believe it on some level, you're the one who made it up.

 _Gomez is absolutely incensed by this slander against his wife and daughter. He wants to yell, but on the next breath his ventilator takes, he just makes a quiet, breathy, wheezy groaning noise once again. Everyone hears this. With every noise Gomez vocally makes, the Swensons become even more uncomfortable. Gomez is so incensed that he tries to turn to look at Morticia, but he does so with such a jerk (in his fury), that his head falls forward. Though he's very good at rolling it from side to side, one thing he isn't able to do yet is pick it up if it falls forward, or hold it up by himself (this is why his head is always held in place using a headband, or is resting against the headrest on his wheelchair, or is supported by pillows behind it, or a neck pillow – though he isn't wearing one today). Morticia turns and sees this._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. Let me help you.

 _She gently lifts her husband's head back up and returns it to resting against the headrest of the powerchair. She fixes his hair, and turns back to look at the Swensons, both of whom are avoiding looking directly at him._

 **Morticia**

Now. Where were we?

 _Morticia remembers._

 **Morticia**

Oh, of course – you were accusing me of fabricating the entire story. I have never heard such an insult to the Addams family honour in my entire life!

 **Mr Swenson**

But why would you make it up, Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

It's simple, I didn't!

 **Mrs Swenson**

But our Clementine would never even say such a thing to a child's face, no matter how true it was.

 **Morticia**

I can't believe the two of you would stand behind such awful words.

 **Mr Swenson**

Why not? Seriously – why not? You wrote them, you conceived them, you put them in our daughter's mouth. Just tell us why you're accusing her, and we'll drop it. We don't want to put you through any more stress, I'm sure parenting two children without your husband, whatever the hell happened to him, is incredibly stressful, so we don't need you suffering any more. We get it, suffering makes people cry out for attention and help. We just want to know why us? Why Clementine?

 **Morticia**

Parenting without my husband?

 **Mrs Swenson**

Well, yes. Aren't you?

 **Mr Swenson**

In fact, you're parenting your children on top of caring for your husband like a newborn baby. That's even worse than parenting your children without your husband.

 **Morticia**

Mr and Mrs Swenson, perhaps your eyes are deceiving you, but my husband is right here. I am most certainly not parenting without him.

 _The two Swensons seem completely baffled as to why Morticia doesn't seem to be understanding this._

 _Gomez is understanding better what the Swensons are implying, and is irate. He starts sweating again, extremely stressed._

 **Mr Swenson**

Listen – Mrs Addams. We just wanna know why. Is it something that happened at the Science Fair? Did Clementine get some kinda prize over your kid and you're feeling jealous? Like little Wednesday deserved to get a little ribbon since her mother's a nut and her father's reta/

 _Neither Morticia nor Gomez hear where Mr Swenson was about to bring the conversation, much to everyone's luck._

 **Morticia**

/Mr Swenson! I'm going to ask you to stop right there. The Science Fair was our first indication that your daughter seemed to have it in for us. We approached her booth, and I asked her, simply, how many serial killers my husband and I were likely to walk past on the street throughout the course of our lives. She presented _me_ with a viable answer, but then used the opportunity to make a cruel and tasteless joke about my husband's inability to walk.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Why would you even make that up?

 **Morticia**

Were you there, Mrs Swenson? How could you possibly know one way or the other?

 **Mr Swenson**

We get that it must be like… cabin fever in here, Mrs Addams. It can't be easy to clean up your husband's drool and wipe his ass day in day out, but you expect me to believe that the moment you go out to parade him around in public, that _our daughter_ insulting what, I assume, is among the least of his problems, is the real crime here?

 **Mrs Swenson**

Which she didn't even do in the first place!

 **Mr Swenson**

Right!

 _Morticia is speechless. Gomez groans again. Of course, every time he groans, he's conveying to Morticia his distaste and distress – which she is completely able to understand. But, to the Swensons, his groaning seems completely involuntary and random._

 **Mr Swenson**

Why did you even bring him out here today?

 **Morticia**

To dine with us, Mr Swenson, why else?

 **Mrs Swenson**

But why else bring him to dine with us if only as a prop to make us feel guilty?

 _Morticia doesn't even get what's going on._

 **Morticia**

My husband is not an _object_ , Mrs Swenson! Gomez, darling, don't be upset.

 **Mr Swenson**

Oh, don't worry – he won't be. As if he even has the slightest understanding of what/

 **Morticia**

/Gomez does not deserve to be spoken about in such a vile manner under his own roof, Mr Swenson!

 **Mr Swenson**

That may be true, but he also doesn't deserve to be turned into a bargaining chip or a set piece just so you can get your kicks out of dragging our little angel's name through the mud. Is it because her project was about serial killers? You don't like that?

 **Morticia**

Of course not, in fact, I think the project was quite/

 **Mrs Swenson**

/Is it because you're jealous? Of our daughter? Straight-As? Your Wednesday has no such academic prowess. Or is it because Clementine has both her parents at her beck and call?

 **Morticia**

Wednesday has both of us at/

 **Mrs Swenson**

/Because it's really just a sad situation all around, Mrs Addams, that you feel like this is the only way you're ever gonna get entertainment out of life anymore. By ruining the reputations of your own daughter's classmates - who never said a bad thing against you.

 **Morticia**

Mrs Swenson, _please_ , believe me when I tell you that as difficult as it may be to face the truth, your daughter insulted my husband to his face, and/

 **Mr Swenson**

/What's the harm in that if he's, well… y'know…?

 **Morticia**

I know what?

 **Mrs Swenson** _(referencing the fact that they both think he's cognitively at the level of a newborn)_

The way he is.

 **Morticia** _(thinking they mean that he's severely paralyzed)_

I should think, Mr and Mrs Swenson, that there is _more_ harm in it, given his condition.

 **Mr Swenson**

Can we just agree, at the very least, to drop this?

 _Morticia can't deal with this any longer. She looks away from the Swensons, to see Dr Arendash creeping into the room with the eyegaze computer in hand, trying to be inconspicuous._

 **Morticia**

Ah, doctor. This is one of my husband's doctors, Dr. Arendash.

 _The Swensons turn around, acknowledge him, and go back to looking at Morticia, who seems upset, but is hiding it well._

 **Morticia**

Please, doctor, be quick.

 _She has to excuse herself in order to breathe and steel herself against this unrelenting attack on her husband and daughter. Now Arendash is giving Gomez his speech back, Morticia feels like she can take a few seconds alone to breathe, while Gomez fights the good fight._

 **Morticia**

I shall think on it while I fetch dessert. One moment, please.

 _Arendash arrives beside Gomez's wheelchair and starts affixing the computer back to it. Neither Swenson pays any attention to this. They're both still looking at Morticia, who has risen to her feet, and gracefully begins to head to the kitchen._

 **Mr Swenson**

What's dessert?

 **Morticia** _(dully)_

Cyanide Roulette.

 _She leaves. The Swensons stare at each other, not really knowing what Cyanide Roulette might be code for. Neither pay attention to Gomez, whose eyegaze computer has been turned back on. Arendash gives him a silent nod and a smile, pats him on the shoulder, and leaves as well._

 _Gomez, now back able to communicate, immediately loads up the text-to-speech software without a second's delay. Still, neither Swenson pays any attention to him as they just look at each other, terrified._

 _Finally, the unemotional, synthetic voice of American Male 4 plays from Gomez's computer, right as Gomez does yet another breathy wheeze-groan. Gomez stares them down._

 **Gomez**

Swenson, _you lying scoundrel!_

 _Both Swensons jump, and have absolutely no clue where to look until they see Gomez staring them down, a computer having been attached to his wheelchair that wasn't there before. Mr and Mrs Swenson both feel their hearts collectively sink as the realization begins to dawn on them._

 **Gomez**

Well, Mr and Mrs Blowhard?

 _Both the Swensons begin to realize that maybe Mr Addams is not mentally disabled at all._

 **Gomez**

What's the big idea, talking to my wife like that?

 _Still, the Swensons are totally silent._

 **Gomez**

Well?

 _Neither Swenson can even think on what to say._

 **Gomez**

Nothing to say, braggart?

 **Mr Swenson**

Uh…

 **Gomez**

Well, I shall ignore the prejudice, intimidation and lies of this entire ableist farce, Swenson – but, I demand an immediate, earnest and full apology!

 **Mrs Swenson**

We… uh…

 **Gomez**

On my own behalf, and on the behalf of my lovely wife.

 _The Swensons don't seem to be able to completely process this. They hope this is some kind of practical joke Mrs Addams is playing on them, but neither of them really believe that – not with the sudden intense glare emanating from Mr Addams's eyes._

 **Gomez**

I caution you, Swenson – I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I'm an attorney.

 **Mr Swenson**

I… uh. I believe it.

 **Gomez**

Good. Well, I don't hear an apology, so I guess I'll see you in court!

 **Mr Swenson**

No, no – wait just one second!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Yes, wait one moment, Mr Addams. I think you may be misunderstanding us. I feel there may have been a… breakdown in communication. How about we break down the wall between us? I think we've both been having two very different conversations.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! The only wall I see is one of _bias and ignorance_! I know _your type_ … the reason behind your child's misconduct? I always say, Swenson – it begins with the parents.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Now listen, Mr Addams, we just didn't realize you were… "all there".

 **Mr Swenson**

Can you really blame us? Have you seen yourself?

 **Mrs Swenson**

I'm not trying to be rude, but you weren't really… _doing_ anything the whole time we've been here.

 **Gomez**

 _Outrageous_ \- I've been responding to Mrs Addams all evening! You just couldn't stand to look at me.

 **Mr Swenson**

That's not true, that's/

 **Gomez**

More vile canards! Suppose it runs in the family!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Please, Mr Addams, we're sorry, we just didn't know. We just assumed.

 **Gomez**

Well, aren't you proud of yourselves?

 _A very short break as Gomez communicates an instruction on how to construe his previous sentence._

 **Gomez**

Interpret sarcastically.

 _Another awkward, short break between the sentences Gomez composes._

 **Gomez**

Making audacious, baseless assumptions as to the mental capacity of a disabled stranger. Thinking my wife's some sort of nut. A truly fine example of parenting at its best!

 **Mr Swenson**

I'm sorry we assumed, yeah, I guess we don't even know your disability/

 **Gomez**

/You certainly don't!

 **Mrs Swenson**

But it doesn't change the fact that the lies being spread about our daughter are truly damaging to her – and our – reputation! All this changes is that you and your wife are equally culpable!

 **Gomez**

Hold it right there, Swenson. I suppose you thought we could gloss over the part where you called me a "prop".

 **Mr Swenson**

Mr Addams, we're sorry, but have you _seen_ yourself? Can the two of us truly be blamed for making that assumption?

 **Gomez**

Well, I wouldn't exactly call myself the picture of health! But! I've got a solid prognosis! What's your point?

 **Mrs Swenson**

You… _look_ …

 **Gomez**

Yes?

 **Mrs Swenson**

 _…well…_

 **Mr Swenson**

You look infantile, Addams. You're fed like a baby. You moan like a baby. We assumed you were also at the mental level of/

 **Gomez**

/And you never thought to ask.

 **Mrs Swenson**

No, but/

 _Morticia returns to the room, carrying a tray decorated with berries. It seems that Cyanide Roulette is exactly what the name implies. Gomez turns his head as far as he can to see Morticia._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez,_ my sweet - how have you fared?

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, parleying with these windbags has been a shocking waste of emotional labour!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. What a pity, darling.

 _Morticia sets the tray of berries down, closes her eyes, and takes one, putting it in her mouth, chewing, and swallowing almost immediately._

 **Morticia**

I _am_ sorry you can't partake in Cyanide Roulette this time, dear.

 _Morticia sits back down in the sun chair, and takes Gomez's hand._

 **Morticia**

I do hope you have taken Gomez's words to heart. He is a very wise man, after all.

 **Gomez**

 _Querida…_

 **Mr Swenson**

Mrs Addams, I was just saying that… well, uh…

 **Gomez**

My dear - did you know they thought I couldn't think for myself?

 **Morticia** _(scandalized)_

 _No!_

 **Gomez**

The braggarts said it themselves – didn't you, braggarts?

 **Mrs Swenson**

Please, Mrs Addams, please do understand that we just… you know, took a look at him, and maybe, rather foolishly, drew our own conclusions from the way your husband looks – which of course, turned out to be wrong, but/

 **Mr Swenson**

/We just thought he looked so… well… _not all there_ … that I guess we jumped to conclusions way too fast.

 **Gomez**

Not since Old Pegleg Addams was forced to walk the plank has such dishonour been enacted on a member of this family. I'll fight this to the bitter/

 **Mr Swenson**

/Addams, please, just tell us why the two of you made this whole story up about our sweet little Clementine, and we'll just/

 **Morticia**

/I wish you wouldn't interrupt my husband, Mr Swenson. It takes him some time to write what he's thinking, and I will not allow him be disrespected any further!

 **Gomez**

Gracias, cara mia, gracias.

 **Mrs Swenson**

Why won't the two of you just come clean and tell us you made this whole story up? You don't even need to tell us why! Just tell us so it can be over and done with!

 _Kittycat roars from the other room, distracting both of them._

 **Mr Swenson**

What was that?

 **Morticia**

Oh, that's only Kittycat.

 **Gomez** _(raising an eyebrow)_

Don't try to distract me, Swenson! I sidetrack easily!

 **Mrs Swenson** _(completely sarcastic)_

Is Kittycat a lion or something?

 _Everyone is silent._

 **Morticia**

Is that odd?

 _The Swensons go completely white again._

 **Mr Swenson**

Don't tell me it… please don't say Kittycat _is_ a…

 **Morticia**

Oh, why don't you greet him yourselves? Here he is now. I suppose his dinnertime is soon.

 **Gomez**

Well, Swenson, you shrewd little sorehead, you've successfully sidetracked me!

 _Kittycat enters the room, plodding in on his giant paws. Mr and Mrs Swenson both start to look faint as Kittycat passes them by. He walks beside Gomez's wheelchair, purrs, and rubs up against him. Gomez reciprocates by moving his head into Kittycat's mane as best he can, and nuzzling him back. Kittycat licks the side of Gomez's head, especially his hair, all the while purring, before plodding to Morticia, and poking his head between Gomez's powerchair and Morticia's sun chair. Morticia strokes his mane lovingly, feeding him one of the berries in the Cyanide Roulette. The berry is bright red, and when Kittycat eats it, it squirts red juice in the Swensons' direction. Kittycat licks his lips, which then stain bright red due to the juice. It all looks remarkably like blood. Absolutely terrified, the two of them can only watch as Morticia scratches the top of his head._

 **Morticia**

Dear Kitty. Such a friendly cat. Sometimes I think he's much more like a dog. Off you go, Kitty! I think heard Pugsley say he was looking to wrestle with you!

 _Kittycat purrs loudly again, and trots off, out of the room, and into the greenhouse._

 _The Swensons are completely and utterly near-delirious with fear._

 **Morticia**

My, Gomez, they _do_ look pale.

 **Gomez**

Maybe they don't like cats.

 **Morticia**

Preposterous. Who wouldn't like dear, sweet, Kitty?

 **Gomez**

Fair point.

 **Morticia**

Mr and Mrs Swenson, it does none of us any good to argue with one side looking so faint. Perhaps some wine, to revive you, and we can continue hurling insults at one another?

 **Mr Swenson**

W-w-w-wine… yeah. Wine.

 **Mrs Swenson** _(whispering)_

They're… they're trying to kill us.

 **Mr Swenson** _(whispering back, while Morticia unties Gomez's bib)_

I don't know how, but – they've got this place booby trapped. Cyanide?

 **Mrs Swenson** _(still whispering)_

 _Lions?_

 **Mr Swenson**

We have to get out of here.

 **Mrs Swenson**

You should never have assumed any of that stuff about Addams.

 **Mr Swenson**

 _I_ shouldn't have? What about you? Like you weren't right there with me?

 **Morticia**

 _Thing?_

 **Mr Swenson** _(whispering still)_

Oh, great. What's Thing? A venomous snake? A tiger? Just a guy with a gun who'll walk in and shoot us?

 _The box on the coffee table opens, and Thing emerges, holding a bottle of wine. Morticia gets up from her sun chair, and opens a nearby cabinet, producing some wine glasses._

 _Mr and Mrs Swenson stare at Thing, and exchange glances, looking even closer to fainting than before._

 **Mr Swenson**

Th-Thing?

 **Mrs Swenson**

That's – t-t-that's "Thing"?

 **Morticia**

Why, yes!

 **Gomez**

Now, Thing doesn't speak either – but don't you worry – he's as "all there" as I am!

 **Mrs Swenson**

I'm… I'm sure he is, Mr Addams.

 **Morticia**

Now, that's the spirit.

 **Mr Swenson** _(whispering)_

I _will be a spirit_ if we don't get out of here right now!

 **Morticia**

Thing, a lovely choice of wine. But could you just retrieve your pistol for a brief moment?

 **Mr Swenson** _(aloud)_

 _AHA!_ You DO want to kill us!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Well, forget it! We're outta here!

 **Mr Swenson**

We're sorry Clementine said all that stuff!

 **Mrs Swenson**

We'll tell her never to say it again!

 **Mr Swenson**

We're sorry we said that stuff about you, Mr Addams, you're actually, uh, really smart, and uh…

 **Gomez**

Don't stop there, old man!

 **Mr Swenson**

Uh, a… a really good, uh, active father, and ah… really handsome.

 **Morticia**

The most sensible thing you've said all day, but what on Earth has brought this on?

 **Mrs Swenson**

The pistol! We know what you want with us! You want revenge!

 **Mr Swenson**

Well, don't worry, 'cause we'll tell Clementine to shut her trap and leave Wednesday be! You don't even have to fire a single bullet!

 **Mrs Swenson**

She can be quite insolent sometimes, we'll tell her to think before she speaks, even if she's right/

 **Mr Swenson**

 _Hush, Phoebe!_

 **Mrs Swenson**

Now, if you'll excuse us, Mr and Mrs Addams, we/

 _Thing re-emerges from his box, holding a pistol._

 **Mr Swenson**

 _RUN!_

 _Mr and Mrs Swenson both scream as they run out of the room, into the hallway, and out the door, slamming it behind them. The room is silent, save for the puffing of the ventilator. Morticia turns to look at Gomez. They both look completely dumbfounded._

 **Morticia**

My, dear. Whatever was that whole circus for?

 **Gomez**

Thing just wanted to show off his old pistol de-corking trick!

 **Morticia**

At least they recognized the error of their ways.

 **Gomez**

How true. I knew we'd get them. They didn't call me the Swayer for nothing!

 **Morticia**

I thought the Debate Team called you that because of your poor balance, dear.

 **Gomez**

That too!

 **Morticia**

Well, it _is_ good that we swayed them with our words alone, my darling.

 **Gomez**

Why's that?

 **Morticia**

I shudder to think what would have happened had you challenged Swenson to a duel.

 _Gomez just looks at Morticia, amused, now completely calmed down again. Both of them are, in fact, now things have gone their way._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's hand, and he squeezes back. Then, he rolls his head across his headrest as much as he can to look Morticia in the eyes. He mimes a kiss. Morticia understands immediately, leans in, and kisses him, on the lips. Gomez reciprocates by placing kisses all along Morticia's cheek and neck, before reaching to kiss her on the lips again. She leans in to make sure he doesn't have to strain himself by attempting to move his head any further, and strokes his cheek as they kiss._

 **Morticia**

You were so passionate, darling. So protective. So noble. You _are_ such a fierce defender of the Addams honour!

 **Gomez**

You know me so well…

 **Morticia**

Come, darling. You must be exhausted. Let's bring you upstairs…

 _Gomez raises his eyebrow. Upstairs? At only 5pm?_

 **Morticia**

 _…bubeleh._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_ You know what that word does to me!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez… of course I do. Too well.

 _Morticia grins wickedly at Gomez, sending him into overdrive. Gomez returns to kissing Morticia's cheek and neck, driven into a frenzy by her use of that word. Morticia smiles coyly, stroking her husband's hair as he kisses her, still grinning wickedly._

 **Morticia**

Come, Gomez. Let's get you to bed.

 _It's now Gomez's turn to smile devilishly back at her, the two of them just touching each other, forehead to forehead, before Morticia finally takes a step back, slides behind her husband's wheelchair, and pushes him to the hoist at the bottom of the stairs._

 _Has it been a weird day? Yes. Are they already now almost completely over it, having gotten the desired outcome, even though they don't realize it's for completely different reasons than they think? Also yes. Now, the only things that matter to the two of them for the next few hours are love, romance and passion. The night is theirs._


	45. Day 159

_**AN:**_ _Well, it's Father's Day, so I wrote something extreeeeeeeemely sappy and cute. If you ever met me irl, I swear you'd be like, "who is this guy, all he writes online is sappy, cute, heartwarming chapters about a loving family - why is he so dour in real life?". Also, I know the timeline of what month this story is happening in is absolutely screwed, like I don't even know what month it's meant to be in this timeline, maybe Father's Day is in a different month in the Addams universe. Who knows? Don't think about it too much, 'cause I'm sure not. But anyway, I thought I'd mark Father's Day with the Addams kids being good kids. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _It's about 2.30. Wednesday and Pugsley have just returned home from collecting toadstools. Inside Gomez and Morticia's bedroom, Morticia is helping her_ _husband with tongue strengthening exercises. These exercises are all done in the hopes that once Gomez is better able to manoeuvre his tongue, his ability to speak will come back faster._

 _She has Gomez up and about in his wheelchair for these exercises. She doesn't want him to spend too much of his day confined to bed, thinking that she needs to get him used to being as active and around as he can._

 _Morticia has Gomez open his mouth. Then, she gets him to point his tongue to one side of his mouth (on the inside of his mouth), and stretch it as far as possible to that side for a few seconds at a time. Then, she has him point and stretch his tongue to the opposite side of his mouth, and repeat the process again. If you or I were to try this exercise, chances are we'd be extremely adept at it, able to stretch our tongues very far. Gomez has no such physical capacity. His tongue is just barely above being a dead weight in his mouth. He's able to shift it maybe a couple of millimetres in each direction, but barely anything more. Morticia is having him do these tongue strengthening exercises every day, several times a day. Morticia dutifully wipes away any small quantities of drool that leak out of her husband's mouth as he performs these exercises, but he's now generally able to swallow the vast majority of his drool. This means that the constant and laborious suctioning of drool out of Gomez's mouth is almost entirely a thing of the past for the couple. However, with these exercises specifically, Morticia does have to do a little bit of mouth maintenance for Gomez, while he does activities that require him to open his mouth as wide as possible and concentrate on something other than swallowing. He's never been that good at doing two things at once._

 _Gomez finishes the exercise. You or I would barely notice his tongue moving at all, but Morticia actually does see a miniscule improvement from the previous day. She smiles at him, lovingly._

 **Morticia**

I think I see an improvement already, darling.

 **Gomez**

You do?

 **Morticia**

Yes. I could _swear_ your tongue moved just half a millimetre more. Ah, _millimetres_ … such a useful tool of measurement.

 _Wednesday and Pugsley scramble up the stairs, and knock on the door to their parents' bedroom._

 **Morticia**

Oh, who could that be?

 **Wednesday**

Wednesday and Pugsley!

 **Morticia**

Is something the matter, darlings?

 **Pugsley**

We want to see father!

 _Morticia dabs one small patch of drool on the side of her husband's mouth away._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, sweetheart – are you up for seeing the children? You aren't too tired after that session, are you?

 **Gomez**

Of course not, my dear! Entrée! Entrée!

 _Gomez, using his eyegaze-controlled wheelchair driving programme, drives his chair closer to the door, to greet the children. Morticia scrambles (still obscenely gracefully) beside him, trying to clean him up a little bit. Gomez doesn't realize how he looks._

 _Morticia moves in front of him. Gomez immediately stops driving his wheelchair, not wanting to hit into her. Morticia places her hands on his shoulders and speaks gently to him._

 **Morticia**

Now, now! Do close your mouth, darling.

 **Gomez**

Oh, yes. I forgot it was open.

 _Morticia strokes her husband's cheek, smiling softly at him. Gomez closes his mouth himself – something that only a few weeks prior, Morticia had wondered if he'd ever be able to do again. Little moments like these fill her with admiration._

 **Morticia**

Don't worry, it could happen to anyone.

 **Gomez**

Not to you.

 **Morticia**

Well, perhaps not. But you understand my point, yes, dear?

 **Gomez**

I do tend to be rather forgetful.

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 _She plants a kiss on her husband's forehead, and moves back behind his wheelchair, putting a hand on his shoulder._

 **Morticia**

Children, your father is ready for you!

 _The door immediately swings open. Wednesday and Pugsley, as per, look thrilled to see him. They're especially thrilled to see him out of his bed and in the wheelchair. There's something about seeing Gomez in bed that makes them think of him more as a "sick person", but when he's in his wheelchair, it's far easier for them to see him as a "disabled person" – inhibited, yes, but not in ill-health or imminent danger of death. This reassures them. They would, despite what Clementine Swenson said to Wednesday, much rather a disabled father than a dying or dead one._

 _Pugsley is holding a container full of what looks like a greyish paste, and Wednesday is holding what looks like a piece of animal hide. Both of them immediately run to their parents. Wednesday repeats her familiar refrain of hugging her father's leg. Pugsley picks up his father's hand and holds it. Gomez has just enough strength in his hand to be able to weakly wrap some of his fingers around his son's hand. This reassures Pugsley – it isn't like Pugsley is holding a completely paralyzed and toneless hand, as his father's hand used to be not so long ago._

 _Gomez is absolutely elated to see his children so happy to see him. Morticia just looks down on the three most important people in her life, and savours the moment._

 **Gomez**

Ah, my remarkable offspring! Wonderful to see you!

 _Wednesday climbs up onto her father's lap, still apparently forgetting he has two holes in his stomach with tubes and medical equipment attached to them, and a drainage bag on his leg._

 **Morticia**

Careful now, Wednesday, I/

 **Wednesday**

/Happy Father's Day, father!

 **Morticia**

Oh, I had wondered if you two would remember.

 **Pugsley**

Of course we did, mother!

 **Morticia**

How silly of me to think any different, my darlings. Gomez, dear, isn't that sweet?

 **Gomez**

Ah, children. You mean the whole world to me!

 _Wednesday hugs her father, tightly. Morticia wants to tell her to stop, but the look on her daughter's face is just too content, and Gomez doesn't seem to look like he's in any discomfort or pain._

 **Pugsley**

We brought you a present!

 **Gomez**

You did?

 **Morticia**

How thoughtful of you, my dear little angels. What is it?

 _Pugsley holds up the tub of greyish paste so his father can see it clearly without having to move his head._

 **Pugsley**

It's toadstools from the garden we picked for you!

 **Wednesday**

But Grandmama said to blend it for you so you could eat them.

 **Pugsley**

We tried a few, they're great! Makes your mouth all tingly!

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, Wednesday, you've outdone yourselves!

 **Morticia**

We ought to be very proud of them, Gomez. Such fine examples of family spirit.

 **Gomez**

That's the old Addams intuition – a heart of gold!

 **Morticia**

You are just like your father, Pugsley.

 **Gomez**

Chip off the old block!

 **Pugsley**

I sure hope not! Not being able to move sounds sore!

 _Gomez considers this, nodding._

 **Gomez**

That it is, my boy! You've got a point!

 **Pugsley**

But having a tube in my neck might be cool. I heard when they take it out, you'll have another scar.

 **Morticia**

Now, darling, I don't believe your father would wish that on anyone, not in the least his son.

 **Gomez**

Certainly not, young man – but, if it does happen some day, there's no shame in it! None whatsoever! Say, I could even give you some advice!

 **Pugsley**

Cool. I want a cool scar. How many do you have now, father?

 **Gomez**

How many?

 _But Morticia has already started making the calculations._

 **Morticia**

Let's see. Your colostomy, your g-tube, your tracheostomy, your heart transplant, that time Kitty mistook you for a leg of lamb, the last time you had a tracheostomy when Cousin Slime accidentally put too much botox in your tea – the two scars will go very well together, I think, that time you hit your head after that seizure when you brushed against my wolfsbane plant – I still am very sorry for that, dear – your ankle reconstruction, your knee replacement, your hip replacement, your second knee replacement… goodness - eleven scars, Gomez!

 **Gomez**

Rats! Was hoping for 10. I just can't stand odd numbers!

 **Wednesday**

Stop talking about father being sick again, he's getting better!

 **Morticia**

Oh, we're sorry, Wednesday. We didn't mean to upset you, my angel. Not at all.

 **Gomez**

Not in the slightest!

 **Morticia**

And you're right, of course. He is getting better. Only a few minutes ago I saw him move his tongue a little further than he did yesterday. Isn't that exciting!

 **Pugsley**

Sure is! I can't wait 'til he's able to sing me Happy Birthday!

 **Gomez**

Don't you worry, my boy, I'll be singing again in no time at all!

 **Morticia**

He might be able to sing Happy Birthday while we vacation in Death Valley!

 _Pugsley looks thrilled._

 **Wednesday**

Look at the card we made you, father!

 _Wednesday finally breaks from hugging her father and shows him the piece of animal hide she left by his leg, reaching down and lifting it up right in her father's face._

 _It's a home-made card that looks like it's been written in blood and on the hide of some obscure creature whose taxidermized remains she found in a dusty corner of the playroom._

 **Wednesday**

We wrote it just for you.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _darlings_. What does it say, Gomez?

 _On the card, there's two pictures of Gomez, both of which have been drawn by Wednesday, who, unlike her brother, didn't quite inherit Morticia's artistic talents. There's one picture of Gomez, before he became sick or disabled, drawn standing up and with a speech bubble coming out of his mouth (though nothing is actually written in the speech bubble). The other picture of Gomez is an image of him as he is now, in his electric wheelchair, with his eyegaze computer, and all the various tubes and medical equipment he needs to stay alive, fed, and clean. There's a thought bubble coming from this Gomez's head, with an arrow next to it that points to another speech bubble, which is coming from the computer. The main feature of both drawings is a rather un-subtle message on Wednesday's part. Next to both images of Gomez, Wednesday has placed a giant, green tick mark, as if to say "I love both of these forms of my father!"_

 _Gomez sees these drawings, and grins widely, appreciating the childlike simplicity of the message, and a little bit tickled by both drawings of him. Then, Gomez reads the contents of the card. After he finishes reading it, he uses his eyegaze computer to retype the contents of the card to relay the message to Morticia. He knows Wednesday could just give her the card to read herself, but Gomez likes to be able to fulfil his wife's requests._

 **Gomez**

"Dear Father – we love you. We missed you when you were in hospital. Please don't go back there or go into another coma. We like that you can talk to us with your computer because if you couldn't do that, we'd be sad. Thanks for getting Clementine Swenson to stop being mean about you being disabled, because since you're disabled, it means you're alive. We're really glad you aren't dead. Even though you can't move or speak, you're still the best father ever. Please buy us more dynamite caps on your computer. Love, Wednesday and Pugsley. PS – when you can move again, can you please bring me (Wednesday) stormchasing?"

 _Gomez is genuinely extremely moved by this, as is Morticia, who places her hands back on Gomez's shoulders. She can't even phrase how touched she is by that card. Her children truly exemplify the Addams spirit._

 **Gomez**

Wednesday, my pet! I could bring you stormchasing right now!

 **Morticia**

Your father is right, Wednesday, dear. Your father doesn't have to be able to move to go stormchasing – in fact, he's perfectly able to stormchase in his current condition. As long as Lurch drives the car, of course.

 **Gomez**

Let's make plans to go tomorrow! What do you say, children?

 _Wednesday hands the "card" to her mother, and goes back to hugging her father tightly, now abuzz with excitement and anticipation._

 **Wednesday**

 _I love you!_

 **Morticia**

Pugsley, do you want to go?

 **Pugsley**

Sure, but can I bring Aristotle?

 **Morticia**

Just as long as you bring a tank for him, dear.

 _Gomez grins and nods._

 **Gomez**

Gotta keep the old man hydrated!

 **Pugsley**

Thank you, father!

 _Pugsley, who is obviously taller than Wednesday, also goes to hug his father, finally letting go of his hand, and wrapping himself around his father and his sister. Morticia is very moved. She plants a kiss on her husband's head, and walks around to hug him too. Now, everyone is in a group hug around Gomez, which they hold for a few seconds, before Morticia gently tries to get her children to stop putting too much tight pressure on their father, just in case._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, wasn't that such a thoughtful, poignant letter?

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, what gems they are.

 **Wednesday**

Pugsley and I wrote it ourselves!

 **Pugsley**

Did you get the part about the dynamite caps?

 _Gomez grins._

 **Gomez**

Thought you could sneak that one past me, could you?

 **Morticia**

They've been so good lately, darling, I think they deserve it.

 **Gomez**

Well, children, on account of your touching letter, I'll see what I can do!

 **Pugsley**

Thank you, father! We were running low!

 **Wednesday**

Mother, are you gonna feed father some of our toadstools at lunch?

 **Morticia**

Of course I will. Such a lovely sentiment, selecting some of your father's favourite food and softening it for him. I'm sure he's thrilled to try it.

 **Gomez**

I am indeed, my dears! I'd be delighted to!

 **Morticia**

Now – if the two of you could excuse us for two minutes, I just have to finish your father's tongue exercises, give him his next round of medications, and empty and replace his drainage bags – his colostomy bag seems to be quite full – that's this one right here –

 _Morticia lays a hand on Gomez's abdomen, where his colostomy bag is, wanting to make sure her children are educated._

 **Morticia**

\- that's the one he went into hospital for, darlings. So, yes – I have a few caregiving duties to exact, but I'll bring him downstairs to try some of your toadstools for lunch, is that alright?

 **Gomez**

Got it?

 **Pugsley**

Yes, mother!

 **Wednesday**

See you soon, father!

 _Wednesday and Pugsley scamper to the door._

 **Morticia**

And, _what_ do you say to your father?

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

We love you!

 _Wednesday and Pugsley both turn to leave, but Gomez stops them._

 **Gomez**

Wait, children!

 _Pugsley and Wednesday turn back around._

 **Gomez**

What do you say to your beautiful, selfless mother? The very picture of dignity and altruism! The very definition of compassion, understanding, and/

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

 _We love you too!_

 _Gomez grins wickedly. Morticia doesn't even have to look at him to know that's what he's doing. Gomez nods at the children, signalling they can go._

 **Gomez**

Alright, children – you're excused.

 **Wednesday / Pugsley**

See you at lunch!

 _The children go to leave, smiling brightly at their father, who smiles back at them, now with the exact same smile he had when he was well. They slip out into the hallway, closing the door behind them._


	46. Day 164 (Part 1)

_Today is a long-planned day. Cousin Itt is returning from going island hopping in the Antilles. Over a year ago, Morticia and Gomez promised to throw a party for his birthday. Itt is returning from his vacation on the week of his birthday, and Morticia and Gomez intend to keep their promise. They have invited all their relatives to the house to celebrate doubly Itt's return and birthday._

 _The party is scheduled to begin at 7pm, and the time is nearly here._

 _Morticia is wearing her party dress – which is exactly the same as her normal dress, but with a fancier necklace, silk gloves, and a black veil. She just thinks it's such a becoming little get-up. Meanwhile, she has dressed Gomez in an incredibly expensive suit. Although Morticia knows she looks her best, she wants to do everything in her power to make Gomez look as impressive and as slick as possible. Most of the family won't have seen him since before he got sick – so she wants to do her best to reassure everyone that he remains the picture of class, nobility and dignity. The suit she has chosen for Gomez is jet black. It isn't a tuxedo, but it does look like one. The shirt underneath is white, and Morticia has given Gomez a matching white tie to go with the outfit._

 _Wednesday and Pugsley are around the house too – both wearing their best black outfits. Wednesday helped earlier in combing her father's hair in anticipation of the party. Gomez bemusedly lets Wednesday do it. He is ninety-nine percent grateful – thankful to have such an attentive, caring daughter. But of course, he's one percent gutted to see his eight-year-old daughter doing for him something he ought to be easily able to do for himself without a second thought. He feels, deep down, a small twinge of guilt for putting her through this – as delighted as she may be to help. Gomez is good at telling himself that those are silly thoughts, however. And Morticia is even better at telling him._

 _Morticia has placed his hands on the end of the armrests of his powerchair. She has placed some small, hard cushions underneath his arms, to keep him comfortable. At the recommendation of Dr Harvey, she's rolled a small hand towel into a cylindrical shape and packed it tightly. She has manipulated and maneuvered each of Gomez's individual fingers to be in a curled position around the hand towel, to get him more used to his fingers being in any position other than just laying flat against the armrest of the powerchair. This will help him even more with the movement in his fingers. Morticia has placed Gomez's other hand carefully propped against the joystick on his powerchair, which, despite the very limited finger movement he still has, he is able to push with one finger (or more). The joystick is sensitive enough to his weak touch that he he's able to use it to drive himself around now. This is rather than with the eyegaze-controlled driving app he used before. This is good for both of them, as it allows Gomez to use his hand more and thus, strengthen it. It's getting stronger slowly, but it is strengthening. His wrists are also very, very imperceptibly, starting to come back to life as well – his right one in particular, as that's the wrist on the hand he uses to push the joystick._

 _We open this vignette with Gomez in the living room, by himself – a feat in and of itself, as Morticia never likes leaving him alone for too long. Morticia has gone to bring out another set of cocktail glasses from the kitchen. He sits, looking incredibly slick, seated comfortably in his powerchair, wearing the immaculate black suit. Morticia insists on draping a blanket over his lap, covering his legs, stopping just before his feet. She's placed a white handkerchief on his lap, over the blanket, as there will inevitably be food later. His powerchair is set at a slight backwards-leaning angle to avoid his head falling forward and generating awkwardness/inability to communicate. He's got his text-to-speech programme loaded up and ready to go for when the guests arrive. For someone dealing with as much health trauma as he is, he looks about as debonair as one could possibly be in that situation._

 _Suddenly, the doorbell rings – the first guest has arrived. Cousin Itt is still upstairs, combing his hair. He's been at it for the past six hours, but Morticia and Gomez figure it's important he look his absolute, immaculate best on his special day. With no Cousin Itt or Morticia to answer the door, Gomez tries Lurch._

 **Gomez**

Lurch?

 _The text-to-speech programme doesn't exactly have the same volume as ringing the noose does, but Lurch's hyper-acute hearing allows him to hear any time anyone in the family requests his presence. Lurch immediately appears from the greenhouse, and makes his way to the door._

 **Lurch**

Getting the door, Mr. Addams.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Lurch!

 _Lurch spies out the window on the door, trying to see if he can tell who it is. He groans._

 **Lurch**

Miss Ophelia.

 _Gomez's eyes go wider than they already naturally are._

 **Gomez**

Well, don't just stand there, let the poor girl in!

 **Lurch** _(reluctantly)_

Yes, Mr. Addams.

 _Lurch hesitantly opens the door, and Ophelia bursts in._

 **Ophelia**

Where is he? Where is my dear old flame?

 **Lurch**

Mr Addams… or Cousin Itt?

 **Ophelia**

Well, I was talking about Itt, but I wouldn't mind checking up on poor dear Gomez as well.

 _Lurch groans._

 **Ophelia**

Don't be so downcast, Lurch!

 _Ophelia stops._

 **Ophelia**

Wait, Lurch. He didn't die, did he?

 **Lurch**

No.

 **Ophelia**

Oh, good. Sometimes messages of that sort get lost in the post – and it's terribly tough to keep in touch with sister Morticia while I'm on tour. She really ought to just text me.

 _Lurch sighs and shakes his head._

 **Ophelia**

Remind me, Lurch. Poor, unfortunate Gomez is _not_ a vegetable, correct? I forget these things easily.

 _Lurch retains a steely composure._

 **Lurch**

No, he is not.

 **Ophelia**

Wonderful, I cannot wait to speak with him about how wonderfully torturous it must be to languish in paralyzed agony. I assume he will not be taking visitors at this time? But after the festivities, I will do my utmost best to engage with him while he marinates in his own indignity.

 **Lurch**

He's in the next room.

 **Ophelia**

He is? Why ever would you subject him to something so strenuous?

 _Lurch shakes his head._

 **Ophelia**

Well, I suppose I'd better greet him. Oh, Dear Lurch, I hope my little heart can take seeing him like that again. The last time I saw him, I was terribly upset for weeks afterwards. I cried nearly twenty-four hours a day. Though, thinking back, perhaps that could have been hay fever. Or the Carolina Reaper infused essential oils I use for my eyebags. Oh well – no matter!

 _Ophelia waddles past Lurch and into the next room, where Gomez is waiting. He browsing aimlessly on WikiHow articles about how to lick your elbow (saved to a folder in his bookmarks entitled "Future Plans"), until he sees Ophelia._

 _Ophelia looks genuinely quite stunned, expecting to see the living room converted into some kind of makeshift hospital room and a completely unchanged Gomez, as paralyzed/sick as he was when she last saw him, many months ago. Instead, she sees Gomez not bedridden but leaning back in a powerchair, mouth no longer toneless, agape and drooling but closed and dry. She's even more surprised when she sees him roll his head to the left so he can get a better view of her – and even more surprised when he smiles politely. To top it all off, he's not wearing pyjamas, but that suave suit. Obviously it's still apparent how severely disabled he is, but she had expected it to be much, much, much worse. She lets out a little gasp of shock. To her even greater shock, Gomez makes a breathy and quiet groaning noise in response to her. Ophelia gasps again, waddles over to Gomez, and hugs him – far, far tighter than anyone ought to be hugging someone in his condition. When she breaks from the hug, she exclaims with shock._

 **Ophelia**

Dear brother-in-law! I – I – I just – I/

 **Gomez**

/Ophelia, what's wrong?

 **Ophelia**

I can't believe my own eyes!

 **Gomez**

Well, we'd better send for a psychiatrist! Not to worry, I'll look one up now.

 **Ophelia**

No, Gomez. I simply can't believe… _this._

 _She gestures to him. Gomez doesn't move his head, but he uses his eyes to look down at himself, and then back up at Ophelia._

 **Gomez**

What? Me?

 **Ophelia**

Dear brother-in-law, I truly thought you beyond the point of salvage!

 **Gomez**

Thanks for that.

 **Ophelia**

Don't be silly, Gomez, it's a compliment! Look at you! So… so…

 **Gomez**

Distinguished?

 **Ophelia**

So… disabled.

 **Gomez**

Oh.

 **Ophelia**

Oh, brother-in-law, don't be a fool! That's another compliment! Before, you didn't look disabled – you looked terminally ill!

 **Gomez**

Wonderful.

 **Ophelia**

Dear Gomez. Would I lie to you?

 _Gomez thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

No, you wouldn't.

 **Ophelia**

See?

 **Gomez**

That's the problem.

 _Ophelia shrugs._

 **Gomez**

Well, high praise indeed, coming from you.

 **Ophelia**

Now you have it, dearie. Where's Morticia? And where's dear, handsome Cousin Itt?

 **Gomez**

Oh, he's upstairs. Getting ready.

 **Ophelia**

He always was the vain one, wasn't he? Well – where's my dear sister?

 **Gomez**

Come, Ophelia, I'll bring you to her.

 _This seems to excite Ophelia._

 **Ophelia**

Oh, Gomez. What an honour. May I?

 _Gomez has no idea what Ophelia is talking about._

 **Ophelia**

May I… push your wheelchair? I've always wanted to know what it would feel like to care for a dying husband.

 **Gomez**

Egad, Ophelia! I _thought_ you said/

 **Ophelia**

/Oh, I know you aren't dying. But it doesn't hurt to play pretend. Come, let me just…

 _Ophelia walks behind Gomez, ready to push his wheelchair, but, using his finger to push the joystick on his wheelchair, he drives himself forward just a second before Ophelia gets her hands on his chair. Ophelia stumbles a bit, but doesn't fall. Surprised, she follows Gomez as he drives himself into the kitchen._

 **Ophelia**

Gomez, wait!

 _Ophelia walks after Gomez, following him into the kitchen, where Morticia is lining up cocktail glasses on a metal tray. When Ophelia sees Morticia, she runs to her and gives her a huge hug. Morticia also seems to think this hug is too tight, but Ophelia quickly breaks away from the hug and begins talking excitedly._

 **Morticia**

Ophelia!

 **Ophelia**

Morticia, sister dear. It seems I have to offer you my heartiest congratulations!

 **Morticia**

Oh? For what, darling?

 _Ophelia points to Gomez._

 **Ophelia**

 _This._

 **Gomez** _(weakly raising an eyebrow)_

I'm a "this"?

 **Ophelia**

Don't be rude, Gomez. Of course you aren't. I'm talking about this stunning display of recovery! Down in no part, I assume, to you, Morticia. I thought he was a goner, for lack of a better word!

 **Morticia**

Why does everyone keep saying that, Gomez?

 _Morticia shakes her head._

 **Morticia**

No matter, Ophelia. You're just trying to be kind. But you must remember, dear - Gomez was only terminal for approximately one day – and the doctors soon did away with that with their quick thinking! That tracheostomy tube and ventilator saved his life.

 _Morticia goes over to Gomez, leans down, and kisses his head._

 **Ophelia**

Well, I suppose it was rather difficult to know what was happening to him, receiving your correspondence every three weeks via carrier raven. You really ought to start texting.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I would, but I'm afraid I may become addicted. Fester's brief foray into Angry Birds taught me all I needed to know about those wretched things.

 _Morticia smiles at Gomez._

 **Morticia**

 _Computers,_ on the other hand…

 **Gomez**

 _Querida…_

 _Morticia kisses Gomez on the head again, and then leans down and kisses him on the forehead. They gaze lovingly into each others' eyes, smiling, and taking in the brief moment of passion._

 **Ophelia**

Well, Morticia, I doubt such a stunning achievement in recovery would have ever occurred without you. How I wish _I_ could have a husband to dote on as you do Gomez.

 _Morticia runs her fingers through Gomez's hair, stroking it, still gazing into his eyes._

 **Morticia**

You will find him, darling, you know it's only a matter of time before your Prince Charming comes along. It took me 22 years to find dear Gomez.

 **Ophelia**

But, Morticia… soon… I'll be…

 _Ophelia whispers it._

 **Ophelia**

…40.

 _Morticia looks up from Gomez and shakes her head indignantly._

 **Morticia**

Nonsense, Ophelia. You're no closer to 40 than I am!

 _She pauses – that didn't sound right. She backtracks._

 **Morticia**

Yes you are. But not by much!

 **Gomez**

In the school of romance, Ophelia, there's one thing I've learned. There's someone out there for everyone.

 **Ophelia**

You think? It just seems that there's so many _someones_ out there for me, but I'm none of _their_ someones.

 **Morticia**

Dear – remember the day you and I met Gomez? He thought he would never find love, and had all but given up on romance!

 **Gomez**

Thought I was too sick to find love!

 _Gomez busts out into a big grin, and spins his wheelchair around 360 degrees, showing himself off._

 **Gomez**

And look at me now!

 _Morticia and Gomez simultaneously, as if psychically connected, look back into each other's eyes, and kiss on the lips._

 **Ophelia**

Well, maybe Cousin Itt and I will rekindle something this evening.

 **Morticia**

Why not let him know you're here, darling? I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you.

 **Gomez**

Always did have a soft spot for you!

 **Morticia**

And I don't believe he ever quite moved on from you.

 **Ophelia**

I don't think I ever quite moved on from dear Itt either… oh… I can't stand it! I must be with him!

 **Morticia**

Well, I think he's upstairs, brushing his hair – make sure to knock, though, you wouldn't want to disturb him while he's changing.

 _But Ophelia is already running out of the room and over to the stairs, her desire to have a partner in life too much to bear._

 **Ophelia**

I'm coming, Itt, my prince!

 _She scampers out the door, and closes it behind her._

 _Morticia and Gomez exchange a look._

 **Gomez**

Good old Itty. A real heartbreaker.

 **Morticia**

That's just what I'm afraid of. I don't know how much more poor Ophelia can take.

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, cara mia – I've already got a psychiatrist's website pulled up, just in case!

 _Morticia sighs lovingly._

 **Morticia**

You think of everything, dear.

 _Gomez grins – his signature, devilish grin._

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

Darling… I hope she wasn't too rough with you. I told her in my letter to be gentle when she next saw you.

 **Gomez**

Seems the letter didn't arrive, my dear - I think she cracked a rib!

 **Morticia**

Oh, no. I'll get you some pain medication – oh, but dear, it'll be such a fuss to pump the medication into your stomach during the party… would you prefer a cold compress? Where exactly does it hurt, _bubeleh?_

 _Gomez's eyes go wide again. He, maybe involuntarily, makes his breathy groaning sound, and mimes kissing with his lips._

 **Gomez**

Tish! That word…

 **Morticia**

Later, Gomez, later! We need to ease your pain!

 **Gomez**

I'm in pain?

 **Morticia**

Your ribs, remember?

 _Gomez remembers the searing pain in his sides, briefly alleviated by Tish's uttering that word._

 **Gomez**

Ah yes. My ribs.

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez. I'm sure you didn't crack a rib.

 _Morticia puts a hand on Gomez's torso, running it up and down._

 **Morticia**

Nothing feels cracked, dear. And you know I have a good sense for these things. It might just have been a shock to your system, but there was no crack.

 **Gomez**

You didn't feel anything?

 **Morticia**

No, darling, just fabric.

 _She thinks on this._

 **Morticia**

I do suppose I'd better feel under your shirt.

 **Gomez**

That doesn't sound so bad.

 _Morticia smiles – even when he's so helpless and in such pain, Gomez is so effortless in charming her._

 **Morticia**

You _devil._

 _She undoes some of the buttons on Gomez's shirt, and runs her hands up and down his chest. When she gets to the bit he finds the most sore, Morticia can tell because Gomez closes his eyes very quickly, his face sort of screwing up for a brief moment._

 **Morticia**

This is where she squeezed tightest?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Well, not to worry, Gomez, I feel no break here. Shall I get you a cold compress? But that would wet your shirt… dear me. Do you want pain medication?

 _Gomez nods – of course he doesn't want to have a tube poking out of his shirt, attached to a pump on the back of his chair, slowly pumping pain medication into him._

 **Gomez**

Can we try by mouth, my dear?

 _Morticia seems a bit surprised – he's never asked to take any medication by mouth before. The whole point of keeping his feeding tube in, even though he can swallow now, was so he could be given medication through it. He takes far too many medications for it to be feasible to take them all by mouth one by one. Morticia understands his request, though. He doesn't want a cold compress wetting his shirt, nor does he want another tube visibly poking out of him._

 **Morticia**

Well… that _is_ very sensible. But you must put your comfort before appearances, darling. If it's easier for you to take it through the tube, Gomez, I think it best to do that.

 **Gomez**

Querida, please – can't you crush the pills?

 _Morticia thinks about it._

 **Morticia**

Well, alright. I suppose it is Cousin Itt's special day. We wouldn't want you to draw any undue attention away from him.

 **Gomez**

Exactly, cara.

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez – you're so thoughtful.

 **Gomez**

Almost to a fault.

 **Morticia**

 _Almost._

 _She kisses him on the forehead and roots around one of the holding bags on the back of his powerchair before she takes out a box of the medium-grade pain medication she uses for Gomez's random aches and pains. Since they're already in the kitchen, Morticia takes out two pills and brings them to the mortar and pestle, and grinds them up to a powder._

 **Morticia**

Now… what to put them in?

 _Morticia has a look around, and sees Cousin Itt's birthday cake sitting inconspicuously on a nearby table._

 _She looks at Gomez, suddenly feeling very bold._

 **Morticia**

Gomez – should we?

 **Gomez** _(scandalized)_

 _Cousin Itt's cake?!_

 **Morticia**

Just a spoonful of icing, dear. Itt'll never notice, we all know he can't see a thing behind all that hair. Besides, I'll smooth it back out afterwards.

 _Gomez seems pretty easily won over to the idea. He joins her in grinning wickedly._

 **Gomez**

Tish… you _are_ suddenly the mischievous one.

 **Morticia**

Come, Gomez. Drive yourself over to the cake. Show me that Addams dexterity!

 _Morticia watches as Gomez shifts his finger about two or three millimetres forward, pushing the joystick and triggering his powerchair to drive forward. As soon as he reaches the table with the cake on it, he stops pushing. Morticia's heart flutters._

 **Morticia**

Darling…

 _She runs her hand through his hair as a sort of reward, and takes a teaspoon from the cutlery drawer. Ever so carefully, she spoons out a dollop of icing off of one of the decorative icing shapes on the cake, and brings it over to the mortar and pestle, where she firmly taps the spoon. The dollop of icing falls into the mortar, and she stirs the icing into the powdered-up medication with the teaspoon. Gomez proceeds to drive his chair some more, following Morticia. When Morticia is satisfied the mixtures are both mixed together, she brings the teaspoon gently to up Gomez's mouth._

 **Morticia**

Be vigilant, Gomez – it might not taste to your liking, but please don't try to spit it out. For one, I don't know if you can – and besides, we'd have to spend more time cleaning you up.

 **Gomez**

I shan't, querida! I shall be the picture of endurance and strength!

 **Morticia**

 _Darling_ …

 _She strokes his cheek, before remembering what they're here to do._

 **Morticia**

Open up, dear.

 _Gomez nods, and opens his mouth, and Morticia feeds him the spoonful of icing-medication hybrid._

 _He ingests it, and immediately feels the bizarre, bitter-sweet taste. He knows he can't spit it back out, so, he tries his absolute best – triggering a bit of sweat, as the movement and focus requires intense concentration. He works every muscle he has even the tiniest bit of movement in to bring the mixture closer to the back of his mouth. It would usually be a bit easier, but the taste is overwhelming his mind in that moment, making things harder. After a few moments of intense concentration and intense nervousness from Morticia, he swallows the mixture._

 _Morticia sighs in relief, genuinely beyond proud of him for taking his first medication by mouth in over five months. She crouches down a little, getting on his eye level._

 **Morticia**

Well done, Gomez! Oh, dear, did it taste awful?

 _She takes Gomez's hand – the one positioned on the joystick – and squeezes it. Morticia takes another hand towel from the bag on the back of his wheelchair and dabs his forehead clean of the few drops of sweat that formed. Then, she takes a roll of kitchen paper and wipes away one little spot of icing that remains on Gomez's top lip. Gomez smiles, enjoying being fussed over, finally squeezing her hand back – still weakly – but every time he does it, Morticia notices a tiny bit more strength returning._

 **Morticia**

Darling, would you like some water?

 _Gomez nods, closing his eyes, still smiling. He would hate being fussed over like this by literally anyone else – even his own family, he would feel awful being fussed over like this – but when it's his beloved Morticia, he can't help but feel safe, a little flattered, and truly adored when she tends to his every need so willingly, gently and compassionately. It makes him feel like he isn't a burden – because Morticia never makes him feel like he's a burden. Even the others in the family can sometimes inadvertently say or do things that make Gomez feel like he's burdening them. But Morticia never does._

 _Morticia pours him a glass of water._

 **Morticia**

Shall we try this by mouth, Gomez?

 _Gomez nods. He used to use straw mainly, but he's been practicing taking everything he can by mouth to get him used to using his mouth as much as possible again._

 **Morticia**

Splendid, dear.

 _She brings the glass of water up to his mouth – it's about half-full – and slowly angles the glass so that water begins to flow into his mouth – which he opens. He takes a sip and Morticia pulls the glass back so that he can swallow it. He does so after a second or two, and immediately opens his mouth for another sip. They repeat this process about four or five times before Gomez is sufficiently satisfied._

 **Morticia**

Is the taste gone?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… dear, sweet, noble Gomez. You don't even look tired – you're getting so good at swallowing again.

 **Gomez**

It _does_ feel a lot easier!

 **Morticia**

That's all your hard work paying off, you know.

 _Gomez grins, happy to realize this._

 **Gomez**

I suppose it is!

 **Morticia**

Remember when swallowing even once used to tire you completely out? Look at you now!

 **Gomez**

Now I'm only slightly tired!

 **Morticia**

A marvellous improvement. Come. Let's see if any more guests have arrived. I simply must feed you some of the cocktails later – it would be such a shame for you to miss them.

 **Gomez**

Sounds splendid, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

Alright, Gomez. Let's see you drive yourself into the party. The guests will be so reassured to see you manoeuvring yourself around without anyone else's help.

 **Gomez**

Excellent idea, Tish! Say no more!

 _Morticia places Gomez's hand back on the joystick, and he drives himself out of the room, Morticia following behind him. She stops briefly, watching him drive himself down the short hallway, and sighs, briefly swept away like a schoolgirl in love, thinking about how handsome/courageous/good a father and husband/clever/perfect he is. Standard lovestruck teen stuff, except she's 36 years old. Gomez reaches the end of the hallway, and when he realizes he didn't hear Morticia's footsteps behind him, he spins his wheelchair around, 180 degrees. She's still standing at the end of the hallway._

 **Gomez**

Cara, is something wrong?

 **Morticia**

Oh, no. No, dear. You're just so charming when you drive yourself around, darling.

 _Gomez smiles, bemused._

 **Gomez**

I do try my best.

 **Morticia**

One small blessing to come from your becoming sick, Gomez, dear – every time you regain a new faculty, or improve even the slightest bit, I find myself falling even more madly in love with you. It's as if I'm rediscovering all these things about you that I had grown to take for granted. Seeing you drive yourself down this hallway… seeing you moving about the house on your own again – it's irresistible.

 _Gomez is genuinely really touched by her words. He'd never thought of it that way. He certainly was reminded by this ordeal of all the things he took for granted, but she puts it better than he feels he ever could._

 **Gomez**

Morticia… your compassion – your desire – your allure – your inner fire – it sets me alight with passion! It moves me!

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_ when _you_ move, it moves _me_.

 _Gomez laughs. It is still quite a jerky, convulsive-looking laugh, but ever since they put the valve on his tracheostomy allowing him to make sounds, the breathy-groan noise he can make involuntarily comes out when he laughs. It makes it seem more like a laugh._

 **Gomez**

You're so clever, dear.

 _Morticia finally joins Gomez, walking the short distance down the hallway._

 **Morticia**

I do suppose I am. Come, Gomez. We can't leave the guests waiting much longer or they'll start leaving. I do hope Itt has joined them. Let us show the extended Addams family your progress!

 **Gomez**

Onward, cara mia!

 _Gomez spins himself back around 180 degrees again, and continues back to the living room, Morticia right behind him._


	47. Day 164 (Part 2)

_**AN:**_ _This is part 2 of 3. Also, Morticia isn't taking any of Gomez's wallowing bullshit lol - but also Don Xavier is a dick and as per, he is behaviour is based on several people my family (me included) have encountered..._

* * *

 _Morticia and Gomez return to the living room, where, indeed, a few more guests have arrived. It's a hodgepodge of Addams friends and relatives. Granny Frump is there, Morticia's cousin Melancholia, her school friend Trivia, Don Xavier – a long-time friend of Gomez and Grandmama, Princess Millicent von Schlepp, Gomez's old friend Oscar Webber, and Cousin Cackle, among others. None of these people have seen Gomez since before he got sick, other than Granny Frump. Gomez is keen not to let his condition distract from Cousin Itt on his special day. After all, this is a milestone birthday for him (even if they're not sure which exact milestone he's hitting)._

 _The small crowd of people all immediately turn to look at Morticia and Gomez when they enter the room. It's clear on most of their faces that they're all more than a little shocked, even though Morticia had specifically warned them what to expect._

 _Morticia smiles sweetly and somewhat threateningly at everybody who dares say something potentially offensive._

 **Morticia**

We _are_ sorry for being late, I was just bringing in some more cocktail glasses.

 _Morticia flutters her way over to the nearest coffee table and sets the tray of cocktail glasses down. Thing emerges from the box on the table, a cocktail shaker in hand._

 **Morticia**

Ah, thank you, Thing.

 _Morticia looks back at the crowd._

 **Morticia**

Look, dears, he's offered to pour your drinks!

 _Morticia returns to Gomez, standing behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The crowd remains kind of stunned. One by one, they start filtering over to the cocktail table and leaving Morticia and Gomez to it. However, Cousin Melancholia approaches them._

 **Melancholia**

Gomez.

 _She nods at him. He cocks his head to the side somewhat and raises his eyebrow a little._

 **Morticia**

Yes, Melancholia? What about him?

 **Melancholia**

You look good.

 **Morticia**

Oh, isn't that sweet.

 **Melancholia**

I don't get what the big fuss was about over there.

 _Gomez makes a kind of "shrugging" expression using only his face._

 **Gomez**

 _I_ do.

 _At the noise of Gomez's computer-generated voice, Don Xavier spins around and looks at him. A few of them turn their heads to listen, but Don Xavier is by far the most obvious._

 **Melancholia**

Well stop worrying. Ya look fine.

 **Morticia**

I think he looks more than fine.

 **Gomez**

 _Querida…_

 **Morticia**

It is our duty to Cousin Itt to host tonight's party free of triviality, and, we shall. And may I say, Melancholia – you seem to understand that Gomez's condition is simply that – a triviality.

 **Gomez**

Precisely!

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez wouldn't dare distract from Itt on his special night. He's so thoughtful.

 **Gomez**

As are you, cara mia, as are you!

 **Melancholia**

Well, I'm gonna grab a drink. I think you've got a griever over there.

 _Melancholia points to Don Xavier._

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 _Melancholia goes over to the cocktail table. As she leaves the two of them, Morticia and Gomez look in the direction Melancholia pointed in. As they do, they see Don Xavier moving towards them, looking absolutely heartbroken. He's got a handkerchief that he cries exaggeratedly into, making gulping sounds and pathetic little wails. Morticia goes into hyper-vigilance mode, not wanting Gomez to be made feel insecure. Gomez watches, scarcely able to believe his old friend's sorrow, feeling a twinge of guilt and a small inkling that it might be because of him._

 _Don Xavier approaches Gomez's wheelchair and falls at his knees once he reaches it. Don Xavier grabs both of Gomez's hands and takes each one in his, and kisses each one, getting them wet with his hysterical tears, which everybody else at the party seems to be ignoring out of awkwardness._

 _Don Xavier lets go of Gomez's hands, letting them flop onto the handkerchief on Gomez's lap. Don Xavier stands again, looking into his eyes, before placing his two hands on either side of Gomez's head, leaning in, and kissing him on the forehead. Finally, Don Xavier stands back, still quivering with tears. Gomez feels very self-conscious._

 **Don Xavier**

Gomez… what have they done to you?

 **Morticia**

Don Xavier! I simply don't – who is _they?_

 **Don Xavier**

 _I don't know!_

 _Don Xavier wipes away more tears, completely engulfed in anguish._

 **Don Xavier**

I remember when you were five years old, Gomez. Running around the house like a dear little goblin, not a care in the world. And now… _now what?_

 **Gomez**

I'm not sure, Don Xavier!

 _Don Xavier gulps, still overrun by emotion._

 **Don Xavier**

 _He doesn't even talk, Mrs Addams! The indignity!_

 **Morticia**

Now, Don Xavier – it would be far _more_ the indignity for him _not_ to have this computer. If that were the case, he couldn't speak to us at all. What would you prefer? The whole party spent with my husband unable to socialize? Unable to tell everybody you're alright? Tell him how you are, dear.

 _Gomez grins cheesily._

 **Gomez**

Tip-top, old man!

 **Don Xavier**

Gomez, my child, I just can't accept it. Mrs Addams, is he suffering?

 **Morticia**

What an inapt thing to ask in the middle of a celebration, Don Xavier! And you could just ask him, at that. Why come to me?

 **Don Xavier**

I… I… oh, Gomez.

 _Don Xavier leans back down and crouches with Gomez, trying to look into his eyes, but not able to make steady eye contact because he's so uncomfortable and distraught._

 **Don Xavier**

Are you alright, my son? Can you hear me well?

 _Gomez nods, but this only seeks to make Don Xavier more emotional._

 **Don Xavier**

Oh, I can't do it. I can't see you reduced to a computerized voice and nodding as your only form of communication. Gomez, you're so vibrant, so enthusiastic, such a force of positivity – how dare the fates seek to trap that inside of you forever?

 _Don Xavier stands and looks at Morticia with a serious expression._

 **Don Xavier**

I assume he is stuck like this.

 **Morticia**

Well, I'm afraid we don't know. Dear Gomez _has_ shown some significant improvements over the past few months, but the doctors are not sure if or when he will plateau – or if he already has – though, I doubt that, as I noticed his wrist twitching this morning.

 _Don Xavier bursts into tears again._

 **Don Xavier**

His wrist twitched? That's all? That's what you call an improvement? Dios mio. Gomez, I am so sorry. If I had known you were going to be this bad…

 **Morticia**

He isn't doing the least bit badly, Don Xavier, please don't be rude to him.

 _Don Xavier kneels back down and takes Gomez's hands again._

 **Don Xavier**

Gomez, you're like a son to me. I can't cope with knowing any son of mine could be suffering so profoundly. I will cater to your every whim, your every need – feed you, clothe you, bathe you, do everything I can to keep you comfortable, I swear this on my life, my family's honour, my/

 _Gomez frustratedly does his best to shut Don Xavier up. He's feeling even more self-conscious than he was before. Don Xavier is not behaving appropriately. He feels Morticia squeeze his shoulder._

 **Gomez**

/Don Xavier! Please! Let me get a word in!

 _The sound of the computerized voice sets Don Xavier off again._

 **Gomez**

I'll be honest with you, old man - I'm not sure I'd like that!

 **Don Xavier**

You're not sure you'd like that? But Gomez… please, understand.

 _Don Xavier slows down his speech, trying to explain this to Gomez as if he were a child. Don Xavier suddenly wonders if Gomez might have suffered mental disabilities too. He can't comprehend why Gomez wouldn't like keeping Don Xavier around._

 **Don Xavier**

You are very sick. I am going to help you. I will be a nurse to you. Do you understand me? Of course you won't like it – it's very scary being sick, after all! But listen as closely as you can to me, little one – I can help you not feel so scared!

 **Morticia**

Don Xavier, my husband is not a baby!

 **Gomez**

Oh, come, come, Don Xavier, you're not talking to a child.

 **Morticia**

Please, address my husband like the adult he is. He's no longer the little toddler you know him best as. He is a grown man, capable of making his own decisions.

 **Gomez**

Besides – truly very generous of you to offer, old boy, but my lovely wife is perfectly capable of dealing with all aspects of my care.

 **Don Xavier**

But he needs all the help he can get!

 **Morticia**

No, he does not. He has entrusted me with his care, just as our wedding vows stated – when we renewed them, of course. We didn't have time to write them on the day, did we, dear? So we composed them, sitting beneath that cascading waterfall on Devil's Island!

 **Gomez**

Ah, Tish. Such a perfect day.

 **Don Xavier**

But he's like a son to me. He's like my little boy!

 **Morticia**

I don't believe my husband appreciates being patronized like a little boy, either.

 **Don Xavier**

But he needs help! He's so sick!

 **Morticia**

You may believe he is, sir, but in truth, Gomez has not been sick for quite some time. His illness ran its course months ago – what you are looking at is its disabling aftereffects. He is just disabled, not sick.

 **Don Xavier**

Well, what's really the difference when/

 **Morticia**

/A huge difference! Were he sick, his entire future would be in question! But thankfully, since my dear, noble Gomez is _just_ disabled, he _has_ a future.

 **Gomez**

She's right, old man.

 **Don Xavier**

Oh, Gomez. When I look into your eyes – I still see that little boy. Only, now more helpless than an infant. My heart is breaking, seeing you like this. Please, _please,_ Gomez. Think on my offer. I could help you, little one.

 **Morticia**

He has more than enough help already, thank you very much. Now – I believe Cousin Melancholia is calling you for a drink.

 **Gomez**

May help you calm your nerves!

 **Don Xavier**

I will be back, Gomez. Please consider what I've offered you. I can't bear to see you suffer.

 _Don Xavier walks away, looks back at Gomez, and then wipes his tears away again, going back to gently sobbing._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… darling.

 _Morticia crouches beside Gomez, and smiles sadly at him._

 **Gomez**

Breaks my heart to see Don Xavier upset like that.

 **Morticia**

But you must think of yourself, Gomez. You know he's only upset because he's basking in the tragedy of it all. He isn't seeing the real you, only the tragedy. I don't believe he wants to accept that you're not in dire need of help. He still sees you as a helpless little boy. It's enough to drive anyone to tears.

 _Gomez looks over Morticia's shoulder, and sees Don Xavier shooting another glance at him. Morticia sees in Gomez's eyes that he's a bit downcast all of a sudden._

 **Gomez**

This has been a rather alarming experience, Tish. Maybe we should go outside.

 **Morticia**

Away from the guests?

 **Gomez**

Just for a minute.

 **Morticia**

Are you alright?

 _Gomez shakes his head weakly._

 **Gomez**

Don't know what's come over me.

 **Morticia**

Of course we can get some air, dear. Do you want me to push you?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Alright, darling. I think you may just be a hair overwhelmed by such patronizing behaviour. I didn't expect such inconsiderate conduct from Don Xavier. But I suppose, deep down, he's just upset to see you so different than usual. He believes _you're_ helpless, darling, and in turn, that makes him _feel_ helpless when he wishes he could fix it all for you – make you well again.

 **Gomez**

I wish he could.

 **Morticia**

Oh, sweet Gomez. I know you do. Here, dear. Let's adjourn for a moment and we can talk about it away from this hubbub.

 _Gomez smiles sadly and nods as Morticia pushes him back down the hallway, and out another door into the garden, where she pushes him next to a garden chair. She takes his two hands and puts them back in position curled around the folded-up towel and positioned on the joystick of his powerchair. Then, she sits down on the garden chair beside him._

 **Morticia**

Tell me what's bothering you, my angel.

 _Gomez seems to be so upset that he can't even type in full sentences._

 **Gomez**

Humiliated.

 **Morticia**

To be infantalized that way?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

I know, darling. It was very disrespectful of him to assume he knew what was best for you. And, to assume I'm not already doing everything I can to make life as comfortable as possible for you. And the way he talked to you! Outrageous.

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

Tish, I feel like a child – an infant!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, you mustn't. You stood up for yourself!

 _Gomez isn't even able to think clearly, he's just very upset._

 **Gomez**

What's the matter with him, talking to me that way?

 **Morticia**

I don't understand it either, dear – it seems such a discourteous thing for an old friend to say. You don't like being coddled. I've never known you to let any person in your life baby you.

 _Gomez does a very small, loving smile._

 **Gomez**

Except one.

 _Morticia smiles softly._

 **Morticia**

Mama?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, Mama hasn't treated me like a baby since I was 5 years old!

 **Morticia**

Me?

 **Gomez**

Who else?

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. Well, I'm honoured. It's very touching, dear, that you feel comfortable when I treat you that way.

 **Gomez**

But Tish - it isn't the same!

 **Morticia**

I suppose it isn't, is it? Sometimes you do need a bit of pampering. A bit of extra love, when you're feeling tender. I adore you – I _cherish_ you. I will do whatever is in my power to have you feel that. I want to make you as comfortable as possible when you're feeling so vulnerable. I hope you feel secure.

 _Gomez smiles at his wife to reassure her._

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, my dear! I feel wholly safe when it's you on the other end of it.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I'm so glad, Gomez. I did worry deep down if you felt embarrassed by my fussing.

 **Gomez**

When you fuss over me, Tish, it drives me wild.

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 **Gomez**

But Mama, and Fester, even the children…

 **Morticia**

You feel a little awkward?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

I suppose so. I wish I could just be grateful.

 **Morticia**

But darling, it's natural to feel embarrassed. You have a legion of loved ones at your beck and call. You would be wrong not to feel a little embarrassed. Especially as many of your needs are so intimate. I hope you haven't been telling yourself not to feel self-conscious. I don't believe such a thing could be possible - even when the most treasured loved ones are your care providers.

 **Gomez**

Wish I could join you.

 **Morticia**

How so?

 **Gomez**

In song, on foot. Intermingling with guests.

 **Morticia**

I know you do.

 **Gomez**

They think it's ghastly. Think I'm ghastly.

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez!_ They most certainly do not!

 _Morticia thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

Don Xavier couldn't even bear to look at me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling. You might be right. But they only think so because of those preconceived notions I brought up before. They think you must be miserable.

 **Gomez**

I _am_ miserable.

 **Morticia**

You are right now, yes, because they're making you feel miserable. They're projecting their assumptions onto you. They think you must be suffering intensely and by thinking it, they make it so. They just aren't seeing the real you.

 **Gomez**

The real me can move. And talk.

 _Morticia won't take any of this crap from Gomez._

 _She takes his hand firmly._

 **Morticia**

Gomez? Squeeze my hand, please.

 _Gomez obliges._

 **Morticia**

Now, what did you just do?

 _Gomez is pretty easily defeated at this game of logic._

 **Morticia**

You moved. So don't you dare entertain the notion that you're no longer yourself. That's the sort of drivel that the ignorant like to assume about you. The exact same people embarrassing you that got you into this rut. And before you tell me you can't talk, analyse that sentence. Before you _tell_ me. Tell. You can tell me. It may not be talking in the traditional sense of the word, but you're converting your thoughts to words. Some of us use our voice boxes to do that. And some of us - you, for example - do not. The medium of communication is a means to an end. You are talking. You can talk. You're in another depression - and I don't blame you for a moment. Don Xavier was quite inappropriate. You're still you. You're still Gomez Addams.

 **Gomez**

I suppose so.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, that isn't quite good enough. You ought to know so. Would Gomez Addams retreat outside during a social gathering in his own house to have a crisis of confidence?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Morticia**

So, prove you're still Gomez Addams. Show those ignorant fools that you're still you. You _can_ move. You _ca_ n talk. They just aren't listening to you, because they don't want to believe you're the same man.

 **Gomez**

But why, Tish?

 **Morticia**

Because your being the same man goes against all logic, all preconceived notions, all stereotypes about the disabled. They ascribe to the school of thought that thinks your spirit must be broken. But it isn't. Is it?

 _Gomez is silent._

 **Gomez**

Certainly feels that way.

 **Morticia**

You are being so terribly dramatic, darling. You were perfectly fine before Don Xavier talked to you that way.

 **Gomez**

Was he right? Maybe I am just a child to be coddled.

 **Morticia**

You are if you let yourself be, Gomez. Do you want that?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Morticia**

As I thought. You will never recover if you resign yourself to a future without progress. If you allow yourself to wallow in your own despair. But Gomez Addams isn't like that. I know he isn't. I married him. And I'm still married to him. After you became sick, I didn't become married to another man. You're just allowing your insecurities to get to you. I know you feel awful and awkward, allowing us to care for you.

 **Gomez**

Not you.

 **Morticia**

Well, the others. The children. Uncle Fester, Lurch, Mama...

 **Gomez**

I ought not to burden them.

 **Morticia**

Darling, if caring for you were burdening them, they wouldn't be doing it!

 **Gomez**

But Tish - sometimes, they _say things_. Little things - that give me pause.

 **Morticia**

Like what?

 **Gomez**

The children ask when I'll be well again... Fester's said he hates washing my hair... and the look in Mama's eyes when she suctions my trach - Tish, it crushes my soul.

 **Morticia**

Darling, the children are just that - children. They don't quite understand the depth of what they're asking. How much a question like that can hurt you, who's doing everything in his power to be well once more. But they're impatient. I will speak to them, if you wish. Explain how much work you're doing.

 **Gomez**

Thank you.

 **Morticia**

And dear - Fester hates washing your hair because he's jealous. Nothing more.

 _This had never occurred to Gomez._

 **Gomez**

You think?

 **Morticia**

I know, dear. He's said it himself. Wants to be switched to a different job - but we want him to work on his jealousy. It's good for him.

 **Gomez**

By George...

 **Morticia**

Now, stop being silly. Mama is upset to suction your trach because, well... have you seen your face when someone does it to you, darling?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Morticia**

You know why I won't do it to you.

 **Gomez**

It just upsets you.

 **Morticia**

And of course, it'll upset Mama too. You're her son. You look in desperate pain when you're suctioned.

 **Gomez**

I do?

 **Morticia**

Does it hurt?

 **Gomez**

No, but it is uncomfortable.

 **Morticia**

Your face of discomfort looks awfully like one of pain, Gomez. I suppose with weakened facial muscles it is hard to tell the difference. But dear, it does you no favours to focus on how much you believe you're burdening the others with your needs. Don Xavier got you into this mess by treating you like a child - a tragedy - a burden. We don't see you that way, as much as your depression wants you to believe we do.

 **Gomez**

I know _you_ don't.

 **Morticia**

I know you care so about the others. Especially the children. But Gomez, I promise. They are just glad you're still with us.

 _Gomez nods, knowing she's right and that he's being an idiot who's let an ableist train of thinking get to him and temporarily crush his spirits._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, what if you had died?

 _Gomez realizes he doesn't like to think about that so much._

 **Morticia**

What then? Would that have been preferable to this? The two of us, holding hands, together in our lovely swamp celebrating Cousin Itt's birthday? Is the care we've learned to give you more of an emotional toll than your premature death would have been? Wednesday and Pugsley said it themselves, in their card to you. They told you how thankful they were to still have you here, despite everything. How thankful they were for your computer, how thankful they were that you didn't die. They are impatient and they want to see you back to your normal self, but they are not resentful of the condition you're in. It means you're still alive. Dear, you lost your own father at a young age - would you prefer to have Wednesday and Pugsley experience that same thing, than for them to learn to care for a father with a disability... or two? Or three... or four?

 _Gomez is completely defeated._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia...

 **Morticia**

You sound more like yourself already, dear.

 **Gomez**

You're so astute.

 **Morticia**

I hope I'm not being too harsh, darling, but you need to hear this. I know you know I don't think you're a burden. But you ought to know that no one else thinks it either. I know you never want to be a bother - and you must take it from me - you're not. The only time in which you _are_ a bother is when you get down on yourself, dramatic, and depressed over unwelcome thoughts that ignorant and ableist family members plant in your mind.

 **Gomez**

Forgive me, querida. Just temporary insanity.

 **Morticia**

You have been such a pillar of strength, Gomez. I don't blame you for letting Don Xavier get to you. He was terribly rude. What he said would trigger a depression in any man.

 **Gomez**

I was already afraid of burdening you all - and then he had to utter those words.

 **Morticia**

So he inadvertently catalyzed something you were already feeling into a depressive moment. Darling, you must not be sorry. I will not allow you to apologize. You cannot control your feelings - what you can control is trusting me when I tell you you have nothing to worry about. We are simply so thankful to have you still here. I feel as if I cheated the fates by keeping you with me. Every moment with you is precious as it's more than I ever thought I would get, all those months ago. You have a future - _we_ have a future. And close-minded individuals such as Don Xavier might not see it, or want to see it - but you are regaining more every day. Every day, you squeeze my hand with a dash more strength, and make that darling noise of yours with a tad more volume - and when I saw your wrist twitch this morning, I knew it was coming back to life too. That doesn't seem to me to be a hopeless future, does it? Every day, something new returns.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Mu guardian spirit must truly treasure me, cara mia, to have introduced me to you.

 **Morticia**

I don't know where I'd be had I not met you.

 **Gomez**

Neither do I.

 **Morticia**

You must not be afraid of being a burden. You aren't. Please - banish every fear you have. This is one thing I cannot do for you. This is something that you do not need to be able to move or talk (though you can do both) to be able to do.

 **Gomez**

We must not indulge fear, querida - even my own!

 **Morticia**

There's my Gomez.

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's hand - he squeezes back, and she leans in and kisses his forehead, before he kisses her on the lips. They kiss for a few seconds before she just hugs him._

 _When she finally moves out of the hug, she's crying a bit - and so is he. She immediately wipes away his tears, not wanting to mess up his eyeliner._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling. You always have worn your heart on your sleeve. It's so noble of you. I like a man who isn't afraid to cry.

 **Gomez**

I'm sorry, Tish. I got carried away.

 **Morticia**

Ah! No apologizing.

 **Gomez**

Ah yes.

 **Morticia**

Now - dear, are you feeling better?

 **Gomez**

Undeniably, my darling.

 **Morticia**

Do you feel up for entertaining guests? You don't feel as if their ignorance might send you back into these spiralling thoughts?

 **Gomez**

Not at all, cara mia. Your words - they form a phalanx around me! They imbue me with strength of mind! They help me see clearly!

 **Morticia**

Oh, _bubeleh_. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. Besides - when you're back in the party, I'll deal with Don Xavier if he comes back. And you can show the rest of the guests the _real you!_

 **Gomez** _(driven wild)_

 _Bubeleh - Tish_...

 **Morticia**

Yes, bubeleh?

 **Gomez**

 _Again!_ You _are_ the sly one.

 _Morticia leans in, and kisses Gomez on the lips again, and they embrace for a few more moments alone, before Morticia wheels him back in to the party, her hand on his shoulder._


	48. Day 164 (Part 3)

**_AN:_** _I really really wanted to have Itt's dialogue all be in Wingdings, but a certain website would not allow it, so I hope this glitch text thing is a good second best._

* * *

 _Morticia and Gomez return to the festivities, and Cousin Itt has finally made his appearance. He is busy entertaining everybody with magic tricks – Don Xavier included, so Morticia and Gomez feel safe enough to make their way over to the cocktail table, where Morticia pours a cocktail for herself, and then pours one for Gomez. Gomez drives himself over beside Morticia's sun chair, and Morticia follows him, cocktail glass in hand, and sits beside him. As Cousin Itt vanishes Granny Frump's head off her body to everyone's amusement, Oscar Webber, Gomez's old friend, notices that Morticia and Gomez have returned._

 _Oscar makes his way over to the pair. Morticia takes a sip of her cocktail, and then brings Gomez's cocktail glass to his lips so he can take a sip as well. Both of them smile amicably as Oscar arrives._

 **Oscar**

Gomez, where were you?

 **Morticia**

Oh, I was just taking him aside to ask his opinion on my choice of gloves, Oscar. I cycle between thinking they're incredibly becoming and woefully gaudy.

 **Oscar**

Why not both, Mrs Addams?

 _Gomez smiles impishly at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

That's a point!

 **Morticia**

That is true. Well, I have settled to keep wearing them.

 _Morticia smiles knowingly at Gomez, who nods gratefully back at her._

 **Oscar**

Gomez – you gave us all a real scare a few months ago, you know.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Oscar! I can assure you, no one was more afraid than I was!

 **Oscar**

Well, that's understandable.

 **Morticia**

Gomez has been recovering slowly but oh so surely ever since.

 **Oscar**

I heard there's been a lot of improvement, that's true!

 **Gomez**

You have? Who told you?

 **Oscar**

Well, I believe it was Mrs Addams' mother who said you used to look like a corpse.

 **Gomez**

Was that before or after I got sick?

 _Gomez laughs – and thanks to the valve on his tracheotomy, he makes an audible groaning sound that goes along with the laughing motion. Oscar wouldn't have a clue what was happening if Gomez wasn't grinning cheesily the entire time._

 **Gomez**

Just fooling, old man. Good old Granny!

 **Morticia**

She has been a well of support for the both of us.

 **Oscar**

Well, Gomez, you know, it must be terribly boring being in your condition, so/

 **Morticia**

/Oh, Gomez certainly doesn't think of it like that. Do you, darling?

 **Gomez**

Certainly not, old boy! I've found that while I can't move, there's still an awful lot to be distracted by.

 **Morticia**

Like his stocks. He _always_ has them up on his screen. Even now, I see them poking out from behind that window.

 _Gomez smiles, Morticia being inept at technology is one thing that has never changed. Not that Gomez is much better, but he's had to learn quickly. Gomez takes great indulgence in getting to explain it to Morticia, considering how often she has to explain things to him. He is grinning widely now._

 **Gomez**

Cara, that's a desktop widget.

 **Morticia**

A what?

 _But Oscar interrupts._

 **Oscar**

/I was wondering, anyway, Gomez, if you'd make an offer to Cousin Itt about perhaps touring with my circus!

 _Morticia gasps. Gomez weakly raises an eyebrow._

 **Morticia**

As an attraction?

 **Oscar**

As a _ringmaster!_

 _Gomez and Morticia exchange glances._

 **Gomez**

Capital. Old Itty's always had a way with large crowds.

 **Morticia**

And it will go so well with the present we've bought him.

 **Oscar**

What is it?

 **Morticia**

Please do not let the secret slip, but Gomez and I have bought him a giant blowdryer.

 **Oscar**

Unbelievable.

 **Morticia**

I suppose you could bring that on tour as well.

 **Gomez**

Make it a double act, Ringmaster Itt and the world's largest blowdryer! Capital.

 **Oscar**

Gomez, if you ever want to come and bring your lovely wife along, I will ensure we'll find a way to get you in the tent.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Oscar. What a lovely sentiment. After all, yours is the only circus worth seeing. All the others have... clowns.

 _Gomez tuts._

 **Gomez**

Exposing children to clowns at such a tender age? Utter nonsense.

 **Oscar**

I couldn't agree more. I suppose if you want, we could put you in the show too.

 **Morticia**

Oh? Whatever as?

 **Oscar**

I'm not sure, Gomez. What do you think? We could bill you as the World's Sweatiest Statue. Or the World's Most Realistic Mannequin!

 **Morticia**

Oh, Oscar, I'm not sure that's politically correct.

 **Gomez**

After all, statues and mannequins couldn't be more different!

 **Morticia**

But I'm sure people would quickly lose interest in staring at you unmoving, dear. And the stillness is meant to be the source of entertainment! You would be far better hiring Gomez to tell some fascinating tales of Addams Family history! Without your computer, I'm sure the crowds would become bored watching you do nothing.

 **Gomez**

That's understandable.

 **Morticia**

Well... I wouldn't. I could watch you sleep and be content. In fact, I have done, on many occasions.

 **Gomez**

Flatterer.

 **Morticia**

Darling...

 **Gomez**

Thanks for the offer, old sport! But I'm afraid I just couldn't do that! I'd much rather convalesce in the comfort of my glorious home - and under the watchful eye of my glorious wife!

 **Morticia**

Watchful _eye_? Which one, dear?

 **Gomez**

Ah, just an expression, cara mia!

 **Morticia**

You're so playful, darling.

 **Gomez**

Not to fear, querida - they're as watchful as each other!

 _Morticia strokes her husband's cheek._

 **Morticia**

Who's the flatterer now?

 _Gomez shudders, overcome by love._

 **Gomez**

Tish... when you stroke my cheek like that...

 **Oscar**

Am I interrupting something?

 **Gomez**

Hm?

 **Morticia**

Oscar, dear.

 _Gomez temporarily forgets everything, so caught up by passion._

 **Gomez**

...Oscar?

 _Morticia points to Oscar. Gomez is forced to snap out of his passionate stupor when he sees his old friend and is reminded where he is._

 **Gomez**

Ah yes! Oscar! Sorry, old man! Where were we?

 **Oscar**

You really are the same old Gomez.

 **Morticia**

And we mustn't let anyone forget that.

 **Oscar**

Itt told me you'd be able to speak again soon. That you can groan a bit.

 **Gomez**

Say no more!

 _Gomez demonstrates his wheezy groan noise, which gets louder with every passing day, on the ventilator's next breath. Oscar nods, taking it in._

 **Oscar**

That certainly sounded like something!

 **Morticia**

Oh, doesn't it, Oscar? It's like music to my ears.

 _The other guests start clapping. It's clear that Itt has finished his magic trick routine. Some of the guests come back to see Morticia and Gomez, noticing that they have returned. Don Xavier gets up to walk over to Morticia and Gomez, but Morticia shoots him a poisonous look, and Don Xavier sits back down, examining Itt's magic set. Melancholia reaches them first._

 **Melancholia**

Didn't I tell ya he was fine?

 **Oscar**

He's chatting away! Aren't you, Gomez?

 _Gomez shakes his head a little and attempts to portray a proud expression._

 **Gomez**

Nobody can silence an Addams!

 **Morticia**

Oh, dear, what a courageous thing to say.

 **Melancholia**

Oscar said he thought it must be boring, being in your state.

 **Gomez**

Well, it can get rather irksome.

 **Morticia**

But together, Gomez and I can overcome the most insurmountable seeming problems.

 **Gomez**

So true, querida mia, so true.

 _Cousin Itt finally approaches the group._

 **Itt**

H̴͍̔i̸̩͐̍ ̶̗͐͋Ǵ̴͖̿o̷̝̊̎m̸̮̾͘ề̷̲̗z̷̬͎͌̓,̸̱̀ ̸͔͝c̶̜̃ő̴͕̥u̵̳̎͊l̸̤̯̾d̵̛͓̙ ̷̢̤̽͌ŷ̶̰͆ö̸̞́̀ǔ̵̟̃ ̴͖̯̏ȃ̵͉̓n̸̖̋̌d̵͎͖̈ ̷̲̾Ï̷̻͚̀ ̸͈͒s̶̡̻̚͠p̶̢̨̿̑ë̵̫̯̽a̵̺͒̑͜k̴̖͆̀ ̶͔̒į̸͍͆͛n̸̦̿͌ͅ ̸̠͎̊͠p̶͚͌r̴͇̪̄i̴̬͛v̶̲͑͝a̵̢̎̕t̸̺͐͋ͅẹ̵̢͊̓ ̵̨͎̂f̴̨̉́o̷̡̿r̸̭̖̎̿ ̸͉̂͋ằ̷͈͖ ̶̭͌̅m̴̰̀i̴͓͂͠ǹ̵̦͊͜ủ̸̩t̶̺͋̚e̷͉͂?̵̨̋

 **Gomez**

Of course, old man!

 _Gomez turns his head to look at everyone else._

 **Gomez**

Excuse us a moment!

 _Gomez smiles at Morticia._

 **Gomez**

Not you, querida.

 _Morticia takes Gomez's hand, moving it off the handtowel, and watching expectantly as the other guests stifle off back into the party, leaving Cousin Itt with the two of them alone._

 **Itt**

G̸̣̼̾ọ̴͖̓͋m̷̨̹͐͛è̷̢z̴̹͂͌ͅ,̶̢̩̈́̒ ̷̧̗͝Î̴̦̑'̵͈̎ṃ̸͋ ̶͔͉͝s̴̙̈́̈ȏ̶̖̝͂ ̸͔̯́̚s̴͉̹̈́o̸̞͑͌ṙ̶̺̭̐r̸̦̹̈́̿y̸͍̤͛̈́ ̴͎̈́Ḭ̷͑ ̵̼̗͐͠c̸̨̠͒̅o̴̬͑͗ṵ̵͇̔̾ḻ̴͝d̴̥̫̿͝n̵̹͆'̷̨͝t̵͎̾͜ ̶͔͈̌b̷̜̈e̷̝͑͛ ̴̤͌t̴̹̒ḥ̵̼͌è̵̞r̶͎̾̀e̵͕̥͠ ̵͉̋͒f̷͕̔̍o̴͖̻͂̕r̵̼̼̍͌ ̶̩͇̔̒ỹ̵͉͊o̶͍̬̓ȗ̷͉͙ ̷͕͊̾͜w̶͖͎̅h̵̞͎͌ị̴̉̐ḻ̴̹̋e̴̠͗ ̶̦͠I̵̜̦̎͑ ̵̮͇͋̕w̴̨̿͛a̷̩̞͆̕ṡ̷̲̝ ̴̡̜̈͝a̴̳͐w̵̡̰͊a̶̦̝̋y̵̖͔̚͝.̷̗̀

 **Gomez**

No damage, old boy! I've been doing just fine.

 **Itt**

B̸̮̄u̶̫̇͛t̶̡̓͒ ̵̞̏İ̸͔͖̄ ̷̟̃̿ͅȓ̵̤ë̸̡̀a̵̿͜l̶̺̍l̶̰̿ÿ̶̟́̒ͅ ̴̠̗̂͠d̶̖̫̄͂o̸̳͍̾͂ ̶̞͝ẇ̵̺̭a̸̤͋n̷̳͋ṱ̷͝ ̴̩̂t̶̰͋ō̸̯̗͝ ̴͎̐̈́f̵̛̰̪i̸̤̻͂̏n̷̛͙͔ḍ̵̔͊ ̸̳̱̐͂a̵̩̓̕ͅ ̶̭̀͆w̶̳̹̌a̵̖̞͠y̵̧͍̑ ̴͙͎̑t̵͓̰́ö̶̙́̍ ̸̛͖̹͛ś̶̠̻͝h̶̞̓̑ǫ̴͑ẃ̷̛̞̯ ̵̻̈́͝m̸̝̗͘y̸͇͠ͅ ̶̖̔ḁ̸̓̕p̵̞̗̑p̸͙̏r̷̺̔e̶̬̰̿͂ç̶͉̃͑i̶͈̓á̸̩t̵̠͍̊̈ḯ̸͍͋ǒ̷̱̰̊n̸̮͆ ̸̤̦̍̈f̷̳͌o̵̘͗̕r̵̤̮͐̕ ̷̟̭̑y̵͉̚ọ̸͍͋ṵ̵̢̔ ̴̖̣͗̈́a̸͔̻͆n̶͇̽ͅd̸̰͔̆ ̵͕̏ẃ̴̛͔h̷͕̯̎͆ȃ̸̪t̴͖͎̔̔ ̴̥̈́̋y̶̰͇̚ö̸͓͖́ú̴̮͒'̵̳́̒v̴̫̓e̴̟̽̎ ̶̘̐̈́g̵̟͆o̴̤̅n̴͉͑͘é̶̢̑ ̵͕͓̍͌t̴̟͓͌̌h̵̝̅́r̵̫̓̉ǒ̷̥͖͠u̷̟͒g̷̞͓̅̒ḧ̵̩̫́̒.̷̜̈́͛

 _Gomez is almost a bit embarrassed and humbled by Itt's kind words._

 **Gomez**

Are you sure?

 **Morticia**

Oh, of course he's sure. You're Gomez Addams, after all!

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Itt**

S̴̜͆ǫ̸͊͆ ̸̪̰̈́I̷̘͈͗ ̸̺́̀w̷̝̞͆͝å̶̰͙s̶̳̃ ̴̗̜͊͑w̶͎̉o̴̺̔͜ṉ̵̖͗͗d̸̮͓̚ě̵͉̗̾r̴̜͠i̷̓͜n̵̬̆̔g̴̥̽̇ ̴̮͚̐̽i̷̲̝̊͋f̵̧̛̈ ̷̫̰̉́y̴͍͕̚o̶̺̍͂u̴͊͜ͅ'̴̛̞̓ḑ̶̠̿̌ ̸̗̑̽m̸̤͍͂̈a̸̹̞̕y̷̙̌̐b̸͓̂e̵̯͍̿͛ ̷̻̝̓͝l̸̮͔̿i̴̺̍k̷̤̀̚ȅ̴̺̥ ̵̺̹̊t̷̗̹́õ̶̖ ̷̘̖̒g̸̬̊i̷̤͙̅̕v̶̼̜̈́̀ȩ̴͉͊͝ ̵̹́ǎ̷̢̡̾ ̸̥̰͠q̴̨͍̐ű̸͓̭i̶̘͝͝c̵͖̈́̾k̶̤͖̽ ̷̛̹ṡ̴̪p̷͌̔͜ĕ̵̺͓̐è̴̘̤̍c̴̩̎̃ḧ̶̤̳́̾ ̸̼̗͆͝w̸͙̣͝͝h̵̼̥͋e̵͕͝͝n̷̙̳̿͝ ̸̟̇ͅw̷̦̾ë̶̬͠ ̶̺̉̃d̸̞̲͝ō̸̱̯̈́ ̸̬̜͘͠t̷̟̳̃h̶̩̰̄e̷̪͂͗ ̸͚͐̋c̸͙̅̆ă̴̹̌k̶̡̾e̸̹͖̓?̴̘͐͝ ̶̢̲̊Ó̵͍b̴͇͚͛v̶̥̋́î̶̤ǒ̷̞̔u̸̡̝͗s̷̛̪l̴̛͎̼y̴͎͌͘ ̴̣͊̕y̶͖͖͗̊o̴̞͆̌ù̴̪ ̴̭̀̾c̸̤͉͂͝ả̴̞̆n̴̪͠ ̷̞̿́s̵͉̭͐̚a̶͇̋̈́y̸͎̹̑ ̵̢̱̿n̸̞̞̔ò̷̧̖,̷͔̥͂͑ ̷̘̟̚b̵̼̺̈́u̵̘͑t̸̤̟͂ ̴̥̄͛Ḯ̶̥̠ ̶̥̓́t̶̟͋h̴̩͓͝i̶̗̕ń̶͚̏k̵̜̈ ̴̖̑̎ä̸͎́͘ ̶͓̖̋g̸̮̈́o̸̡̺͊ȍ̵̮͔d̵̩͖̎̒ ̶̟͛͝m̴̜͝a̵̘͐ǹ̴̝̻̏y̷̨̠͛ ̵̭͝ͅo̵̮̚f̴̭͗ ̷̟̎́u̵̩̘̓̍s̵̢̏͂ ̶͔͒̋w̷̧̃è̷̼r̶̲̰͊͂e̵̹͓̚͠ ̸̛̥w̸̖͂́ô̷̳̈́ṙ̶̖r̵̞̿͑i̴͇̍͂e̶̘̻͘͝ḓ̴̙̿́ ̸̜͔̀ạ̸̿͊b̸͙̳̽̃ō̶̳͍ȗ̵͈̻t̸̜̔ ̵̤͕́ý̷̞̆ó̵̹͔ų̵͍̀ ̴̡́w̸̞͊͆h̷̯͠ẽ̴̗͜͝ṅ̷͎͛ ̸͔̘̈́y̶͔͔̿o̷̭̗̿̀ṵ̸͇͊̌ ̶̞̠̐w̴̳͝e̵̓͜͝r̷͙͠ẻ̷̢̟̽ ̶͔̂̍s̸̛̳̻̕î̵͕͖̍c̶̢̻͝ḱ̶ͅ,̸̢̙̊̏ ̷̫̽ǎ̶̫ṅ̵̢̛̼d̸͎̟̽̏ ̴̡͌̊i̴̖͋ţ̵͊͑ ̷͇͓̀̐ẉ̵̓o̴̮͕̓͑ù̶͓͗l̶̞͒ḑ̴̌̚ ̴̟͚͠j̶̫̏u̶̙̍ͅs̵͔̤̅̇t̸̢̄ ̴͉̋d̴̖̔o̴̦͘ ̸̰̜͐a̵̧̙͂l̵͔̖̚l̸̟͇̽ ̴͈̐͝ȍ̵̞̈́f̷̺͆ ̴̣̼̀̀ü̴͙̣͑s̸͔̒ ̵̗́a̶̭̬̾ ̴̜́̐l̴̺̓͘o̷̲̅t̵͚͆̍ ̸̪͛̕o̶͈̱͐͘f̷͕͙͒ ̵̯́͗g̶͚̳͂ǫ̸̊o̴̺͌̽ͅd̷͕́ ̶̢͉͊t̵̜͋͐o̶̤̽ͅ ̸̛͍̙h̶͋̄͜ẻ̴͓̱̈a̷̹̐r̵̫͊͗ ̵̟̪̋͑h̸̠̺̉o̸͐ͅw̴̫̒͒ ̴̯͚̿ỹ̴̢̹ȏ̷̹̫͑u̶͇̓̀'̵̡͌r̷͉̖̚̚é̷͈̥ ̷̤̈́̅d̸̺̎ͅò̵̭̪i̵̱̇n̸͎̈͑g̸̱͙̔ ̵͕̽̓f̷̡̐̕r̷̬͒ö̵͙́̕͜m̴̗̾ ̸͈͈̈́y̴̻̿͛ö̶̜́ͅų̷́͠r̷̗̚ ̸͍̕o̸̪͉̾ŵ̵̪̯͠n̷̗̺͂ ̶͔̎̏m̸͉̟̅̚o̴̢̦͘û̸͓͓̚t̸̥̮̑̆h̶͔͒̾.̸̗̫͊̿.̶̼̌̚.̶̤̥͊̂ ̷̳͑ǒ̸̳͈̉r̶̢̈ ̵̛̱̗̆c̷̢̉̇ỏ̸̡̩̉m̷͖͈͑̍p̶̫͒u̶̡̎̍t̷̹͠e̵̮͕͆r̵͕͙͑̑.̴̔͝ͅ ̷̜̺̏͘W̶̭̩̕̕ḧ̶̗̻́ạ̸̠͗̿t̶͇̅͒e̴͕̰̔̕v̸̙̮̄e̷͙̙͑r̸̢̒̀.̶̮̜͋͠ ̷͎̾B̷̦̏̈ȕ̷̝t̵̛̜̊ ̷͍̿ŝ̶͓t̶̙͌i̷̗̫͘l̸̫͛l̶̪͕̏,̸̲̫̔ ̵̤̟̿ỳ̷̥̖o̴̼͑ů̷̗̫ ̶̦̱̆͘k̵̲̮͘n̴̫̕o̸̲̟͌w̵̢͆̆ ̶͉͛̽w̷̦̑͝ḧ̸͈a̵̞̚͜ţ̷̧̅ ̴̞͈̂̉Į̷̽̃ ̵̥͂m̵̳̽̐͜e̶͔̳̽ḁ̴̢̀n̶̮̦̆̀.̴̔͜ ̷̺̦̏S̵̜͋o̴͓̘̚,̶͎̝́ ̵̯͈̉̋ẁ̴̨̱ḫ̵̊a̵̰͎̓t̷̫̾͜ ̸̠̮̇͐d̸̪̭͐ơ̴̧̚ ̶̛̝y̶̖̮̌o̸̝͂̑u̸̜͗̓ ̶͙̓͆s̶̥̮̕a̷̝̓ȳ̶̪̳?̵̧̛̼̿

 **Gomez**

Itty, this is an honour!

 **Itt**

D̶̹̚͝o̵̦͙͊ṋ̴́'̸̤͉͗͠t̶͍͚̔́ ̵̢͔̀m̶͔̌e̶̹͛n̷̲̅͜͝t̴̹͚͆ǐ̷̦̣͝ơ̵̡̜̓ṉ̵̠̓ ̷̛̣͙̀i̴̝͆t̵͎̾͠!̴̙̝̆

 **Morticia**

And such a marvellous idea too. The family will want to hear from you, after all. Uncle Fester can video it.

 **Gomez**

Capital! And now, to compose a masterpiece!

 **Itt**

Â̵̲͈̅ḣ̶̪ḧ̶͉̰́!̶͖̓͒ ̸̡́T̵͎͝h̸͉̽͘a̵̺̐̆n̵̮̰̈́͐k̷͈̪͒̐ ̶̝̻͆y̵̙͌o̷̝͗͐ͅu̴̯̬̇ ̶̖̙͌̃Ġ̴̣̲̃ó̴̡̋m̴̽̈ͅẹ̸̱̃͘z̴̺̹̅.̶̙͈̓ ̶͓̥͌I̵̯̟̕ ̶̯̈̈́ǩ̷̗͝n̴̐͜e̶̩̽w̸̝͑̿͜ ̵̻̳̀I̶̫̝͛̓ ̸͚̅c̶̰̺͆ỏ̴̟u̶͕̹̐͆l̷̙̀͛d̴̛̝̟ ̴̭́͌c̷͇͑o̶̡̎u̷͙͊͠ṋ̴̂t̵͂͒ͅ ̷̧͙̈́o̸̳̟̓̇n̷̦̈̑ ̸͕͌y̵̖̱̐ò̴̮̓u̷͈͒̃.̶̠͐̇

 **Morticia**

You're so sweet, Cousin Itt. We're lucky to have you.

 _Itt gives Morticia a hug._

 **Itt**

I̵̥̠̒'̸̻̉̀d̶̜͍̑ ̶̩̝̐͘h̸̢͋̈u̷̻̭̓g̴̠̤̎̓ ̶̫̭́̈́y̶̫̝͝ö̸̪́̋ȕ̷̥̌ ̴̝̌̍ͅt̶̡̤̑̅ő̶͚̦̊o̶͉̓̚,̷̡̝͋͂ ̶̲̏G̴̻̤̽͑o̴̡̒̔ḿ̸̧̯̓e̷̠͆͘z̷̛̠̉,̸͉̾̐ ̴̜̈̊ͅb̷̧͛͐u̶̗͊t̴̛̤̙̿ ̴̝̉I̴͙͝ ̵̢̦̒̎d̴͇̹͌o̴̗̊̾n̷͍͔̿̎'̵̧̐t̷͍̓̿ ̶͚͔͑͝w̸̖̺͊a̸̬͖̓͋n̷̝͛̽ň̶̜͍̈́a̸͖̰͌ ̷̞̂h̸̤̍u̷͔̝̅̏r̵̛̼͔̕t̸͇̬̃̇ ̵̺̔y̸̻̌o̸͈͆̚ͅũ̸̪̯̈́.̵̤̞̿

 **Morticia**

That's very wise of you, dear. Now, I think my sister Ophelia was looking for you. You ought to see if you can find her!

 **Itt**

J̵̱̠͝e̵̛̖̲̍e̵̝͎͋͐z̷̼̔̉.̴͊̔ͅ

 **Morticia**

Itt! She really is a lovely girl deep down.

 **Gomez**

You're such a playboy.

 **Itt**

H̷͍̏ĕ̴̬͎̒y̶̛̗̽,̶̲̃͝ͅ ̶͙̪̈́̓n̴̳̖̐o̴͚̰̿w̵̛̪̾ ̵͇́̽d̴̛̪̫̓ò̴̩̯n̸̰͗̈́'̸̝̪̄t̵̳̓͘ ̵͉͝s̷͔͛̚a̷̪̯͋y̶̢̭̍ ̴͚͊͂t̶̮͑̆ḧ̴̪́́a̵̳͓͂t̴͇̀̐ ̸̱̬͠i̵̡̹̐n̸̼̰̐͆ ̸̛̞̖̅ṯ̴̛̦h̴̅̏ͅḙ̵̢̅ ̶̡̗̅͝s̶͖͐p̸͙͎̋e̵̢̐̕e̷̥͉̿c̶̡̜̀͝h̶͎̼͌!̷̨͗̀

 _Gomez smiles, devilishly._

 **Gomez**

No guarantees, old boy!

 _Itt goes back to the partygoers._

 _Pugsley and Wednesday, both in their best fancy black outfits, approach their parents and corner them before anyone else can join them. They look like they are having an absolutely great time._

 **Wednesday**

Can we do this for mother's birthday?

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, I assume you're having fun?

 **Pugsley**

So much fun, is this what being drunk feels like?

 **Morticia**

Pugsley, the punch I served you was non-alcoholic. I believe what you're experiencing is called the placebo effect.

 **Pugsley**

Aww, beans.

 **Wednesday**

But can we? Please, for mother's next birthday?

 _Gomez looks at Morticia, love in his eyes, before looking at the children._

 **Gomez**

Your mother shall have whatever her heart desires, children!

 _Morticia shakes her head, a little embarrassed. But Gomez loves pampering his wife as much as she does him._

 **Morticia**

But my birthday is so long away, still – and our anniversary is much sooner.

 _Wednesday and Pugsley seem a bit disappointed by that answer._

 **Wednesday**

You always go out for your anniversary, though.

 **Pugsley**

Can't we come?

 **Morticia**

Oh, darlings, our anniversary is a very special time for us. We like to be alone, have adult time.

 **Wednesday**

What's that?

 **Pugsley**

Like a romantic dinner.

 **Wednesday**

Sounds boring anyway. We only wanna come if you do something fun.

 **Gomez**

Whoever said a dinner couldn't be fun?

 **Pugsley**

I still have homework to do anyway.

 **Morticia**

That can wait until after the guests have left, darling. Do you need any help with it? I'm sure your father would be thrilled.

 **Gomez**

I certainly would, my boy!

 **Pugsley**

It's biology. The digestive system.

 **Gomez**

Capital! Well, think nothing of it. With the digestive troubles I've had, you couldn't find a soul anywhere more learned on the topic!

* * *

 _The party continues on now with relative inaction._

 _Morticia does her best to keep Don Xavier away from Gomez, whilst sometimes feeding Gomez little sips of cocktail. In the background, beneath all his talking and conversing with guests, Gomez pens a speech to give after Itt's cake has been cut. Gomez is flattered by Itt's requesting Gomez to say a few words. He knows that the family will all appreciate hearing from a family member that they have worried about._

 _Eventually, Itt's cake is brought out by Lurch, who holds the cake in one hand. The cake is gigantic, and no one notices the small dollop of icing that Morticia stole from it to give to Gomez. Lurch lays the cake down on the centre table, and everybody sings Happy Birthday to Itt. Gomez is ready to give his short speech by the time this happens. Wednesday is curled up on her father's lap, on top of the blanket, trying her best not to squeeze any of his medical equipment. Pugsley is still beside them too, acting drunk even though he hasn't had any alcohol. He holds his mother's hand and his father's hand._

 _Lurch hands Itt the knife, and Itt is about to cut before he stops._

 **Itt**

N̶̢̗͝ó̴̦̦w̸̳̭̕,̴̟͚̾͝ ̴͖̉b̶̼͉͊̑e̶̡͌ḟ̴͚ò̵͎̮ŕ̷̨ȩ̵̧̓ ̷̣̝͝ẘ̴̘̔ẽ̸̻̻̅ ̴̱̆̓c̸͚̏u̴͙̦͒̚t̷̝͉͂̐ ̸̺͓̄a̷̡͆ṅ̴͎ḑ̵͚͛̃ ̵͔͍͆̒s̵̹̃͋t̷̗̀á̶̬̚r̴̨̅t̶͓̭̆͑ ̸̲̗̐ĕ̶͈̣a̷̗̅̑t̸̙̟̓͒i̷̗͕̽̋n̶̨͓̉̽g̷̪͋͂,̵͕̈́͗ ̴͙́I̵̥̅͠ ̴̤̖͌͂w̴͎̟̿a̴̹̘̓̌n̵̟͑t̴̝̃̐ ̸̞͌͝t̵̖̃o̷͔͌̇͜ ̷̧̺͘a̸̤̽s̴̤̈́ͅk̷̤̽̚ ̵̫́͂G̶̰̦̕o̵͓͛m̵̪͊ȅ̷̞͜z̸̜̥͌ ̵̺̑t̴̞̓͘ó̶̫̔ ̷̠͒s̸͉͗a̴͉̓y̷͇̥̏́ ̷̰̔a̶̝͚̕ ̷͙͓̿f̵̜͉̄ẻ̸̖̻w̴̡͍̋ ̶̡̤̇w̶͇͌̃ọ̶͎͐̚r̷͓̰̄d̷̻̅͠ś̴̗̪.̶̗͆

 **Fester**

And I'm gonna film it!

 _Fester takes out his crappy, busted up iPhone, and his hands visibly shake as he records. This video is not going to be ideal._

 **Itt**

T̷̜͇̔͘h̵̭͊a̴͕̒́n̴̜͕̎̅ḵ̵̈ ̴͍̥̊ẙ̶̨̻ö̴̗́͝ǘ̶̥̮,̴͚̇͘ ̶̳́F̸̤̽͜ḙ̷͕̽s̴̮̱͊t̷̟̆e̷̝͌ṛ̵̞̎!̷̮̒̈́ ̷̛͍̣S̸̼̒̽o̴̜̍,̵͔͈̅̈́ ̴̪̄͂ͅI̶͖͋ ̵̤̅̓k̵͓̤̈́́n̸͈̔̆o̷̖͕͑̈́ẉ̷̥̈́̕ ̸̢̘̂͋w̴̱̻̾͂ë̷͖́ ̵̯͋̈́ḥ̵̔̽a̸̛͇̎v̷͉̖̎ě̵̦̜̽ ̴͕͉͘a̷͉̯͌̃ĺ̸͈l̷̻̽ ̴͕̇b̶̭̈́ẹ̶̹͝e̵͈̘̿n̸̲͠ ̷̤͝v̷̲̱͒̀ę̵́̆r̵̜̪̽̔ŷ̵͕ ̴̟̘́w̷̰̰͑͝ǒ̵̘͝r̶̛̰̹͒r̷͍̫͂̆i̴̤͘e̶͉̚d̴̹͇̊͂ ̵̳͍̏ã̴̰̃b̴̲̽o̶͓͛ǔ̴̫̋t̸͇̲͑͛ ̸̺͂h̸̖̭͑͘i̴̟͈̐m̷̳̻͌.̷̙̞̀͠

 _Everybody nods in silent agreement._

 **Itt**

Ḇ̸͑u̵̹͎̓̓t̶̥̟̿̀ ̸̯̑I̷͕̽̍ ̷͍̣͑̕ṱ̵̠̆h̵͔͔̎i̶͙̎ṅ̸͖̹k̶̭͒̃ ̴̳̩̑h̴̡̐a̶̛͕̦v̶̖̞̓̇ȉ̴̫n̶͙̽̚g̷͈͂͒ ̶͎̌͌ͅh̷͎̲̄̐ĭ̵̗͖̚m̷̥͇͌̽ ̶̡̺̐ū̶̠̌p̴̼̤͒ ̶̢͕̃ḫ̸̫̈́e̴͔̾r̴̛̗͊e̶̩̔ ̶͉̋t̸͇͌ö̵̥́̏ ̵̢̜̎͠a̴̖̠͛d̸͎͑̐d̵̠͆͋r̴͕̗̊͂ë̶̖͇́s̸̮̉̓s̶̫̓ ̴͎̣̋̕ȗ̵̫s̶̙̲̄̑ ̴̭̝͂a̶̬̕͘l̸̮̟̕͝l̴̲̈̏ ̴̲̠͆w̷̮͈̕i̵̲̋l̵͕̬̔̕ľ̶̥ ̷̖̮̑̂á̸̂͜s̴͖̍͝s̷̟͙̊̑u̶̗͔̽̅à̸̧̓g̴̻̝̽̏ẻ̷̖͎ ̵͍͠o̵̧͐͝u̵͕͒͠r̸͍̪͂ ̵͓̣͗͐f̵̯́͋ë̶͓͔́a̶̢̛̩r̴͎͛͑š̷͔̕.̴͋ͅ ̵͕͓̐͝S̶̰̆͌o̸͉͊̓,̴̱͗̚ ̷̦́G̷͕̜̊o̴͍̓m̶̯͇̔̀ẽ̶̜ź̸̬̞ ̷̢͉͒́-̶͎͍͂ ̷͇̆̓w̴̯͙̅̃ĥ̸̩̌a̷̙̾͂ţ̵̹́̈́ ̶̜̗̽͠d̴̮͆o̷̺͔͛͘ ̷̗͘ý̸͇̑o̸̤͉̊ǘ̴͉̤ ̵̲͚̏h̸̘̯͝a̴̗͌̓v̷̗̓́e̷̼̠͒ ̷͚̋̎t̷̨̙̽̚o̴̥͍̎ ̸͓̈ṡ̴͎̱ă̸̭̅y̸̢̖̾?̴̞̃̎

 _Gomez smiles, again embarrassed and humbled, as the partygoers clap for him. He isn't even put out by hearing Don Xavier quietly whimpering behind the applause._

 **Gomez**

Well, this _is_ an honour, Itt - using your own day as a platform for me to ease your collective fears! To you all, I say this - I am well! You need not be concerned for me or my health any longer! It's true that have not been a well person these past few months, but those difficult days have passed. I am not terminal, nor was I ever - save for a few, I'm told - critical hours in the few days following first onset. Each day has been a slow but steady step on the road to recovery. Now, the ordinary man wouldn't appreciate the minuscule changes I've seen over these few months - but I assure you - the movement I have regained has changed everything - and for the better! When I first became ill, I couldn't even open my eyes. And to be unable to see my querida - it was torture! Rest assured - I certainly hope to outdo my progress next year - if all goes to plan, I shall deliver a companion speech to this one in my own voice!

 _Cousin Cackle cackles in approval._

 **Gomez**

Now - I believe I've taken too much of your time. I'm so hungry, I could eat a sea serpent!

 **Morticia**

My, that's the exact flavour of the jam, dear!

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia..._

 _The crowd claps for the cute little speech, and Itt cuts the cake. As he does, Morticia approaches the table and takes the first slice. She brings it over to Gomez on a paper plate as more partygoers line up to grab a slice too. She sits beside her husband on the sun chair again, runs her hand through the jam and the icing, and scrapes it onto a plastic spoon. She brings the plastic spoon to her husband's mouth, and he ingests and swallows it, grinning cheesily at Morticia. The two of them look on as Wednesday finally slides off her father's lap, and drags Pugsley over to grab a piece of cake. Looking around, she sees Don Xavier engaged in conversation with Millicent Von Schlepp. Relieved that he is distracted, Morticia sighs and lovingly feeds her husband another spoonful of icing and jam._

 **Morticia**

Ah, darling.

 **Gomez**

Querida mia. What a fool I would have been to die.

 **Morticia**

Oh, my angel. I'm so glad to hear you say that.

 **Gomez**

Squeeze my hand, Tish. Just looking at you's driving me wild.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, you wicked man.

 _She takes his hand, but also leans in to kiss him. Nobody notices, as they're all distracted by the cake and the festivities. Morticia and Gomez continue to kiss like a bunch of teenage high school lovers. The two of them are more in love than ever, despite it all._

 _Morticia squeezes his hand, as he asked. Gomez reciprocates, stronger than he's ever reciprocated before._


	49. Day 169

_**AN:** So I was a smidge worried about Gomez's characterization in this scene, for some random reason. I think I worry more about getting him right because he's in such a difficult situation, and I want to make sure it's still recognizably him, despite the situation he's in. Let me know if it's okay with you here!_

* * *

 _Dr Harvey has decided it's time for Gomez to try feeding himself for the first time in pretty much half a year. Harvey has gone to great lengths to acquire the perfect pieces of equipment to help him do this, and brought them to the house in anticipation of giving it a go._

 _In the dining room, a procedure is going on. With the powerchair tilted back at a comfortable and safe angle, Morticia and Gomez watch Dr Harvey wheel in a stand with some slings on it. The stand is long and large, with two slings, large enough for one's hand to fit through, on each end. Harvey gestures to it._

 **Harvey**

So, Mr and Mrs Addams, here it is.

 _Morticia squeezes Gomez's shoulder, a tiny bit worried about him trying something like this._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, do you really think you're ready for this?

 _Gomez is so ready to do this, if he could, he'd be vibrating in his chair. He grins widely._

 **Gomez**

Incurably, my dear!

 _Morticia shrugs at Dr Harvey, who wheels the stand behind Gomez's wheelchair._

 **Morticia**

Well, I suppose he just can't be unconvinced.

 _Harvey is pleased by Gomez's enthusiasm._

 **Harvey**

That's a good thing, Mrs Addams!

 **Morticia**

But… is it safe? Doctor, you know how I worry.

 **Harvey**

Mrs Addams, do your best to banish those worries. Under my supervision, he is always safe.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. Dr Harvey is so professional.

 **Gomez**

How fortunate to have him as my movement man!

 _Harvey laughs at the term "movement man", thinking Gomez genuinely doesn't know the word for physiotherapist._

 **Harvey**

I'm actually a physiotherapist, _that's_ the name/

 **Gomez**

/Just an expression, Harvey old boy!

 _Gomez smiles expectantly at Harvey._

 **Gomez**

And besides, doctor – the time for feeding is upon us! Let's get on with it!

 **Harvey**

Well, yes. Okay.

 _Harvey gestures to the stand._

 **Harvey**

So, this stand, which I'm going to lower behind you in a few seconds, will suspend your arms in the air – and you'll be able to utilize your hand and wrist movement without worrying about having to lug your arms about. Then, we'll _gently_ adjust the brace, to get it as close to you as we can. We want you to be able to reach the meal. Feeding yourself _is_ a huge step in the right direction, and if feeding yourself can only be done through other adaptive methods, so be it.

 _Harvey cautions Gomez and Morticia._

 **Harvey**

 _But_ – it'll still probably be more convenient for your wife to feed you most of the time. If the two of you can try doing this at least once a day, though, that would be superb.

 _Gomez is resolute in his desire to get on with this. He's dying to impress Morticia with their anniversary coming up so soon._

 **Gomez**

Of course, Harvey! I shall be the very picture of a diligent patient!

 _Morticia's heart melts a little at her husband's eagerness._

 **Morticia**

Oh, but you already are, darling!

 _Gomez is in a particularly spirited mood today, and the littlest things Morticia does sets his blood aflame. It could be their upcoming 14th anniversary._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia…_

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher…_

 _Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_ That French – it goes right through me.

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez… you're so romantic.

 _Morticia moves closer to Gomez, leans down, and kisses him on the cheek. Gomez is now driven completely wild, shivering with passion. Morticia speaks almost in a whisper, encouraging him along._

 **Morticia**

To rally you, darling! To send a jolt of the Addams spirit into you!

 _Gomez shivers again, smiling broadly, completely enraptured. He makes his quiet wheezy grunt noise as he does so – unable to control what his voice does when he's in this much of a lovestruck stupor. This sets Morticia's heart aflutter._

 **Morticia**

And there is that dashing, handsome voice of yours again. Oh, Gomez…

 _She puts her hand on his shoulder, and her other hand on her heart. Harvey snaps his fingers to get their attention back._

 **Harvey**

Can we do this? Let him feed himself! And you can… y'know… be cute then!

 _Gomez is scandalized by the implications of Harvey's words, somewhat misreading his intent._

 **Gomez**

Now, hold on there, Harvey - my beautiful wife is _always_ cute! I demand an apology!

 **Morticia**

Oh, no, dear – perhaps the doctor _is_ right, though. We ought to help you regain your faculties. If I saw you feed yourself today – _oh, Gomez_ \- it would be the single most meaningful anniversary gift you could ever give me.

 _This spurs Gomez on. Were he able to move, he'd certainly clap, point his finger up, or something similar to showcase his drive._

 **Gomez**

Your wish is my command, cara mia!

 _Harvey lowers the stand down, until it's a foot above Gomez's head._

 **Harvey**

Wonderful – so let's get right to it. Mr Addams, I'm going to lift your arm into the sling. Mrs Addams, if you could lift his other arm into the other sling?

 **Morticia**

Of course.

 _Morticia and Harvey take one of Gomez's arms each, and lift them up. They slide each of his arms through the slings on the stand until his hands are the only things poking out of the slings. Then, Harvey manoeuvres the slings down a little bit, getting Gomez's hands as close to his head as Harvey's able to get them._

 **Harvey**

Is this alright, Mr Addams?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Harvey**

Right then, I believe it's time for me to get the cutlery.

 **Gomez**

A capital idea! I've heard it's quite an important component in this whole affair!

 _Gomez smiles impishly at Morticia, who wants to shake her head at how cheesy Gomez is being, but she's just happy to see him in a good and talkative mood._

 _Harvey goes back to his bag, and takes out two pieces of adaptive cutlery. Both of them are spoons. He holds them up to show Morticia and Gomez. Both of the spoons have a significantly larger plastic base than normal – the oversized plastic base curves along its width into a long, thin, plastic clip that forms a tight C shape._

 **Harvey**

So, this lets you use a spoon – or a fork when you're ready for solids – without actually needing to be able to grip it. It just slides around your hand and you're good to go, as long as you can move your wrists enough to move your hands.

 **Gomez**

Capital.

 **Morticia**

Wonderful. May I?

 **Harvey**

Of course. You're the one who'll be putting these on him, going forward.

 _Morticia goes over to Harvey, takes the cutlery from him, and moves over to Gomez, whose arms are still in the slings hanging at head height. His hands are relaxed and flopped, he's not doing anything with them at the moment. When Morticia gently slips the adaptive cutlery around Gomez's hand, however, she sees him move his fingers a little bit to remain as comfortable as possible._

 **Morticia**

Is that alright, dear?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Does it feel comfortable?

 _Gomez nods again._

 **Morticia**

Good, darling. Just say something if you want me to adjust it. Harvey? Should I put one on his other hand, too?

 **Harvey**

Yes, why not. What do you think, Mr Addams?

 **Gomez**

Might as well, old man! We're here, aren't we?

 **Harvey**

Very good.

 _Morticia slides the other spoon around Gomez's other hand._

 **Harvey**

Now for the tray. I know you might feel embarrassed by high up this tray will be, but/

 **Gomez**

/My boy, we were lucky to get this chance at all! I have resolved not to allow myself be embarrassed!

 _Morticia melts a little._

 **Morticia**

Isn't that wonderful, doctor?

 _Harvey is less enthused, but smiles politely at Morticia's pride._

 **Harvey**

Sure. So, uh, here's the tray, then.

 _Harvey opens the bag again, and unfolds a thin metal tray. He brings it over to the wheelchair, and affixes it with built-in clamps in front of Gomez, at his shoulder height. It is extremely high up, but it's to allow him to be able to reach the meal. Gomez watches politely as Harvey sets it all up. Harvey and Morticia both take a step back to look at the completed setup._

 **Harvey**

So this is what we should aim to set him up like at least once a day, just to make sure he gets better and better at feeding himself. You have to picture this.

 _Morticia is about to take out her paintbrush and rush to a canvas to capture it, but Harvey keeps going._

 **Harvey**

A _mental_ image, Mrs Addams.

 **Morticia**

I suppose that does make more sense.

 **Harvey**

So, what have you prepared for your husband?

 _Gomez delights in knowing more about the situation than Harvey, and finally getting to explain something to him rather than the other way around._

 **Gomez**

Harvey! Morticia didn't prepare dinner – Lurch did!

 **Morticia**

Ah, him and his marvellous bullfrog paté.

 **Harvey**

Oh. Wonderful. Uh, well – bring it in.

 _Morticia walks over to one of Lurch's nooses, pulls it, and the gong rings out violently. Harvey has become used to it – for the most part. He still shivers a small amount as Lurch appears out of nowhere, holding a bowl of bullfrog paté._

 **Lurch**

Bullfrog paté for Mr Addams.

 _Lurch plops the bowl of paté down on the tray. It is mere inches from Gomez's face – definitely within the range of his hands, which hang just slightly above it._

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Lurch. That will be all for now.

 _Lurch groans in acknowledgement and lumbers out of the room. Harvey returns his gaze to Gomez and Morticia, who seem to be waiting on Harvey to say the word go._

 **Harvey**

So – Mr Addams, uh – in your own time. Mrs Addams, you may want to prepare some tissues in case he gets some on his face.

 **Morticia**

I have tissues here, doctor, waiting on the back of his wheelchair. One moment and I'll get them.

 _Morticia moves around to the back of Gomez's chair, and roots around the bag hanging from it before pulling out a stack of tissues. She pulls up her sun chair next to Gomez's wheelchair, and sits beside him, ready to help if needed._

 **Morticia**

Alright, dear. Go ahead.

 _Gomez concentrates. He tries to wiggle his fingers as much as he can just to wake his hands up. There is a limited amount of movement in his wrist, but he moves his left wrist just a little amount, moving his hand down and slowly – ever so slowly – concentrates on having his wrist and hand descend, centimetre by centimetre, into the bowl. It takes ages, and Gomez almost immediately starts sweating from the concentration required._

 _He has limited hand control, sure – but enough to move it a little bit downward – and in the position he's seated in with the tray so close to his face, a little bit downward is all he needs. With great focus, the spoon finally makes contact with the paté._

 _Gomez, still in deep concentration – which is a rarity for him in the first place – moves his wrist a smidgeon diagonally in order to scoop up the littlest dollop of paté. It's barely anything, but his wrist can only barely make the movement. However, he manages it, and then begins the final, arduous process of lifting the spoon back to his mouth – easily the most difficult part of this task. He waits for his ventilator to take another breath for him before he keeps going. When it does, he uses every last bit of strength he has to lift his hand back up to his head height. It is like watching someone do extremely heavy weightlifting. The sweat is now pouring, and Morticia wants desperately to dab the sweat from her husband's forehead. She also knows that distracting him could potentially be disastrous, though._

 _With more strength than he's ever managed to summon before, he lifts his hand back up until it's finally at mouth height, and goes for it. He slowly edges the spoon closer and closer to his mouth – this entire process taking excruciatingly long at almost 15-20 seconds. He almost forgets to open his mouth as the spoon finally approaches. He slowly manages to get the spoon into his mouth, and he gratefully ingests the paté. He finally does the tiniest shift in movement in his wrist to get the spoon out of his mouth, and immediately relaxes his hand. After this strenuous work, relaxing his hand is the greatest relief to him. Now, he uses the muscles in his face to slowly ease the paté closer to the back of his mouth – something that is getting easier and easier for him by the day – and takes about a second and a half to concentrate before swallowing the whole spoonful down. Finally, he breaks out into a massive smile, savouring the next breath the ventilator takes, and closes his eyes._

 **Morticia**

Oh, _darling!_

 _Morticia is overcome by pride, and immediately kisses Gomez on the hand he just used._

 **Gomez**

Tish…

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, you're sweating quite profusely. Let me get that for you.

 _She dabs his forehead dry, and when she's finished, she leans in to kiss him on the lips. The two of them kiss once – and then again – and then again, unable to get their faces off each others'. Finally, Harvey clears his throat._

 **Harvey**

Well done, Mr Addams.

 _Morticia and Gomez both remember Harvey is still there, and Morticia hastily pulls away._

 **Gomez**

The perfect lunch!

 **Morticia**

Oh, my dear, what a display of endurance.

 **Gomez**

 _Querida_ – I will admit – it was no easy task! I had, if you can believe it, moments of doubt!

 **Morticia**

You concealed them so convincingly, my angel.

 **Gomez**

But my darling – seeing your face – thinking on our special day… I knew I just had to pull through!

 **Morticia**

Whatever helps you engage in stunning displays like that, Gomez. Oh, you're going to make me cry. Darling, you are so masterful.

 _Gomez grins again._

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

Oh, _bubeleh…_

 _Gomez's passion goes into overdrive once again._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_ That beautiful word!

 **Morticia**

A beautiful word for a beautiful man.

 **Gomez**

It is a triumph of the Addams spirit, cara mia! Nothing more!

 **Morticia**

You're so humble, dear.

 _She leans down, and kisses him on the lips again. They kiss passionately, while Harvey watches, slightly frazzled but wanting to make sure he takes Gomez's arms out of the slings. Morticia pulls her face away a few inches and out of Gomez's line of sight, so he can speak with her as they're close._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. What would I be without you? Where would I be if not for you?

 **Gomez**

I could ask the same myself, Tish. You have been nothing short of a saint.

 **Morticia**

 _Mon cher… mon cher toujours…_

 **Gomez**

 _Querida mia…_ that _French…_

 **Morticia**

Does it ignite the Castilian nobleman within you!

 **Gomez**

It sets his entire being alight!

 **Morticia**

 _Je t'aime…_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_ Kiss me again, before I lose my mind!

 **Morticia**

Gladly, _mon cher…_ gladly…

 _Morticia leans back in and kisses him again, passionately. The two of them cannot stop kissing now. Harvey just stares awkwardly, standing there like a melon._

 **Harvey**

Hey!

 _Gomez and Morticia immediately snap out of it, and both look straight to Harvey._

 **Gomez**

Ah yes! Sorry about that. Got something to say, old man?

 **Harvey**

Yes – uh, Mr Addams. Let me just… you know… take you out of these contraptions.

 **Gomez**

Capital. Fire away!

 _Morticia finally moves away from her husband, and with Harvey's help, the two take Gomez's hands out of the slings and set them back on the armrests of his wheelchair. Then, Morticia takes the bowl of paté off of the tray. Finally, Harvey unclicks the tray and folds it back into its smaller size, leaving it on the dining table for re-use._

 **Harvey**

Once a day, remember?

 **Morticia**

Duly noted, doctor.

 **Harvey**

Now – one more order of business before I go. Can I see some tongue movement, Mr Addams? See where you're at? I know there's been a lot of tongue exercises happening, which I'm glad to hear.

 **Gomez**

Say no more, Harvey! Observe – the expert touch.

 _Gomez opens his mouth, and moves his tongue up, left, and right. The movement is a little bit bigger than it's been before – not in any way significantly improved, but improved enough that it's noticeable. Harvey raises an eyebrow._

 **Harvey**

I think I see progress! Can you give me a vocalization, please?

 _Gomez nods, and waits for the next breath. When it arrives, he repeats his signature, weak wheezing/groaning sound. However, Harvey notices that it's definitely a fraction louder than it's been before. He's gotten better at lining up the noise with the ventilator. As well as this, his vocal cords have just been reawakened the tiniest bit more in the past few weeks since the valve was put on his trach tube. These two factors combine to make Gomez's signature vocalization sound a little better than it's ever sounded before. Harvey smiles, genuinely impressed._

 **Harvey**

That sounded louder, too. Well done, Mr and Mrs Addams!

 **Morticia**

He has been doing wonderfully, hasn't he?

 **Gomez**

All down to you! - My beautiful, beguiling _querida._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_ it's a joined effort.

 **Gomez**

You are a guiding light, cara mia. A beacon of hope in this trying chapter of our history!

 _Harvey gets the impression that they're going to get lovey-dovey again, so decides to nip it in the bud and leave._

 **Harvey**

 _WELL,_ I've done my bit for today, so I'm going to take my leave and head home. The two of you need some… _alone time_ … I think. Am I right?

 **Gomez**

Very considerate of you, Harvey!

 **Morticia**

How sweet.

 **Harvey**

Remember! Every day! When I come back tomorrow, it'd better be in his daily care plan.

 **Gomez**

Rest assured, old man! My dear Morticia has a near-photographic memory!

 **Morticia**

It's true, doctor. I _do_ tend to remember these things quite well. In fact, I remember the first time that/

 **Harvey** _(not wanting to hear whatever horrifying story she was about to tell)_

/Good! Well – I'll leave you be, then! Well done today – both of you! Get some rest, okay? Hard work being done, left, right and centre.

 _Harvey gives the two of them one last smile, and heads out the door, with his now-empty bag. As soon as the door closes, Harvey hears from the other side of the door._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… oh, _Gomez…_

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_

 **Morticia**

 _Je t'aime toujours, mon cher, je t'aime toujours…_

 **Gomez**

Tish… say something else in French… _Moulin Rouge… comment allez-vous… l'Arc de Triomphe…_

 _Harvey can hear the smile in Morticia's voice._

 **Morticia**

Very well, _mon petit choufleur…_

 _The sound of a distant kiss from behind the door, before Gomez's computerized voice rings out a moment or two later. If Gomez could be, he'd be breathless._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Tish. That was beautiful.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez… _les pommes de terres…_

 _Harvey can just tell Gomez is probably so enraptured by love that his eyes must be threatening to pop out of his head._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_

 _And after that last exclamation from Gomez's computerized voice, Harvey doesn't hear anything else but the sound of distant kissing. Finally, Harvey decides to finally leave, a wry smile on his face._


	50. Day 173

_**AN:**_ _Sorry this one took so long, it was a mad one to edit, I played around with it a lot and put a ton of work into it, and even still I'm not completely satisfied. I'm getting more and more scrupulous about making sure that Gomez is characterized as perfectly as I can. Let me know if you think I've done a good job with this chapter here, especially with Gomez's characterization. I want you to truly be able to see and envision_ _John Astin's Gomez in your minds. Like be totally believable as that Gomez. So if you think I've managed it, say it, say it, say it. I need validation._

* * *

 _Wednesday is asleep, and she's dreaming. She gets flashes of images, none of them welcome. She sees vignettes of her father in bed, back how he was at the very start of his illness: his eyes frozen open and eyeballs fixed in place, mouth open, looking entirely dead to the world beneath the tubes, hospital gown and wires that engulf his limp form. She hears the whispers of Dr Benson telling her mother that if they don't open his airway surgically, he will die. She just hears "he will die", repeated again and again in her head, the phrase bouncing around her brain like a pinball machine. Then, the image changes to the doctors wheeling Gomez's completely hospital bed, entirely overloaded with equipment and life-support systems, down the hallway to surgery. Everybody looks frantic except her father, whose entire body is limp, and his face eerily frozen. She hears Dr Benson saying "he's in unbearable pain, do not touch his eyes, as tempting as it might be to want to close them for him, it'll only make the pain worse." Again, the phrase scatters in her head, and she hears "he's in unbearable pain" echo again and again over "he will die" as all the images blend into one. Then, the dream somewhat changes - Wednesday is walking down the hallway to her parents' room. She slips inside the room, through the doorway, and sees the room bare except for her father's old, high-tech hospital bed. Gomez lays in the bed, in the exact same state she just saw him in before - reverted right back to how he was at the beginning of this ordeal. She doesn't see anything in the dream to confirm this, but she just knows that this dream is taking place in the present. Her mother passes her in the dream, and Wednesday asks_

 ** _Wednesday_**

 _How is he?_

 _\- to which Morticia responds, in Dr Benson's voice_

 ** _Morticia_**

 _He's in unbearable pain._

 _Wednesday shakes, wanting to cry - but asks_

 ** _Wednesday_**

 _What's going to happen?_

 _\- to which Morticia responds, again, in Dr Benson's voice_

 ** _Morticia_**

 _He will die._

 _Wednesday then looks up just in time to see the heart monitor of the life support machine get slower and slower, before the dull drone of the monitor flatlining pierces her brain. The imaginary noise is so loud that she awakes in a cold sweat._

 _The moment she wakes up, she bursts into hysterical tears and immediately, desperately, rolls out of bed. She has to make sure the dream wasn't real._

 _She near-sprints out of her room, and down the hallway to her parents' room. Just like in the dream, the door is a smidgeon ajar, and Wednesday wastes no time in bursting through and making a beeline straight for her father._

 _She jumps onto the bed, and crawls between her parents, wedging herself between them. This, combined with her loud sobbing, immediately wakes Morticia, who stirs, slowly coming out of her deep sleep._

 _Wednesday leans over her father and very forcefully taps him on the shoulders. When he doesn't instantly rouse, she pokes his cheek and then gently presses her finger tips on his cheeks, tapping them gently._

 **Wednesday**

Father, please, wake up, wake up, can you hear me, father, wake up, please...

 _Morticia is now lucid enough to process what's happening, and she sits up in bed._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, is something wrong?

 _Whatever Wednesday did to wake up her father eventually works as he also comes out of his own, medication-infused sleep. He wakes up very groggily, his eyes opening the tiniest amount. He looks completely out of it, hair a mess, eyes barely able to open, mouth open, and unable to swallow his drool when he's asleep (obviously). He comes to his senses just enough to close his mouth, but seems to still drift in and out of lucidity. Wednesday completely ignores her mother's question._

 **Wednesday**

Father, please, do something!

 _Gomez hears this, and upon hearing a distant command from his daughter, his eyes open again, and he rolls his head to the side a little. He looks into her eyes. His expression, now starting to wake up a bit more, is quizzical and worried - with a dash of exhaustion. Upon the next breath his ventilator takes for him, Wednesday and Morticia both hear a weak, sleepy wheeze-groan come from his mouth. Wednesday, now satisfied her father has definitively not regressed to how he was on day one, sobs even more, and lies down between her parents, laying her head on her father's chest, hugging him tightly and not letting go._

 _Morticia just watches, speechless at what she's just witnessed and wanting desperately to know what's wrong with Wednesday. She shoots Gomez a quick look, and they share identical expressions of total confusion and concern with each other just by the looks in their eyes, not to mention their faces._

 _Wednesday continues to cry into her father's chest, getting his nightshirt damp with her tears. Morticia, still sitting up in the bed, finally manages to ask a question._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, darling, speak to me. What's brought this on?

 **Wednesday**

I had a bad dream.

 **Morticia**

Oh, angel. You must remember that even the most unpleasant dream is only a dream.

 **Wednesday**

This one wasn't.

 **Morticia**

How do you mean?

 **Wednesday**

It really happened.

 **Morticia**

What did you dream of?

 **Wednesday**

Father was back to being how sick he was in the beginning. When he was in hospital.

 _Morticia can just tell Gomez's heart is breaking at this. Her heart sinks too, wishing these two loves of her life no more suffering._

 **Morticia**

Oh, but you know that's in the past now. It must have been a horrible thing to have to remember, dear, but your father is a bastion of strength and nobility. He is doing infinitely better than he was back then.

 **Wednesday**

It seemed so real.

 **Morticia**

Dreams often do, Wednesday darling. But that's all they are.

 **Wednesday**

I never want him to go back to being like that.

 **Morticia**

None of us do, dear.

 **Wednesday**

What if he did?

 **Morticia**

That could only occur were he somehow unlucky enough to contract Guillian-Barré syndrome again. And the chances of that are 1 in 100,000.

 **Wednesday**

He was already 1 in 100,000 once before.

 **Morticia**

That's true, but the chances of him being that one person again are astronomical.

 **Wednesday**

But there's a chance.

 **Morticia**

You mustn't think about that. That chance is so minuscule that it's not worth fretting over for a second longer. Isn't that right, darling?

 _Gomez, who's now much more lucid and who's been listening to their conversation, wheeze-groans in approval on his vent's next breath. He also nods as he does this. Wednesday looks up from her father's chest just in time to see him nod his head a little._

 **Morticia**

Dear... you've been so incredibly courageous throughout this whole ordeal.

 _Wednesday nods, agreeing._

 **Wednesday**

Yeah. He's really strong. That's what I tried to tell the girls at school. Edith didn't believe me but I know it's true.

 **Morticia**

Well, it's very true that _he_ has been courageous, but I mean _you_ , Wednesday, darling. _You_ have been courageous too.

 _Gomez nods again, backing his wife up._

 **Wednesday**

I have?

 **Morticia**

Of course, my angel. It's not everyone who has to cope with their father becoming so ill, and facing such a gargantuan, arduous recovery process. But you have approached the situation with that unique brand of bravery and nobility seen only in an Addams!

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, mother.

 **Morticia**

And your father agrees. Look.

 _Gomez nods again, looking Wednesday in the eye and smiling at her._

 **Wednesday**

In my dream you couldn't smile.

 **Morticia**

But it was only a dream - he _can,_ and he's smiling at you right now.

 _Gomez remains smiling, but his smile is tinged with sadness._

 **Morticia**

Let's turn on the lights, dears.

 _Morticia reaches to her bedside lamp and turns it on, shedding some more light on the situation. She sees her daughters' eyes are wet with tears, and her heart breaks a little. When she sees Gomez's drool, she instinctively grabs a tissue from the bedside table, and dabs Gomez's drool away with it. Gomez shoots her a look of thanks with only his eyes, but Morticia knows that's exactly what he's trying to communicate._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, dear, make yourself comfortable. Perhaps it would do you good to stay with us tonight. To assuage your fears about your dear father.

 _Wednesday buries her head back into her father's chest, resuming hugging him tightly, not wanting to let him go. She speaks, her voice muffled, against his nightshirt._

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, mother.

 _Wednesday reaches for her father's hand. As soon as she takes it, she squeezes it, prompting her father to squeeze back in return - still weak by our standards, but given his condition, stronger than ever._

 **Morticia**

I'm certain your father has something to say about this, also. Don't you, Gomez, dear?

 _Gomez nods. Morticia finally gets out of bed._

 **Morticia**

I'll get your computer, darling.

 _She goes over to the chaise longue and takes the eyegaze computer off of it. She slowly moves around back to the bed. She then also, with her free hand, slides over the stand that the eyegaze computer normally affixes to. She brings the stand right up to Gomez's bedside and attaches the computer to it, before positioning the computer right in Gomez's line of sight and turning it on for him._

 _As it starts up, Morticia moves back around to the other side of the bed and slips back in, now laying back down, lying on her side, looking at her husband and daughter. Gomez looks at her as he waits for his computer to boot up, his eyes emanating gratefulness. He then looks down at his daughter who is still laying on his chest, one arm wrapped around him, the other holding his hand under the covers. Morticia just takes the sight in. Wednesday looks as if she's calming down, the sobbing growing quieter and quieter._

 **Morticia**

Sssshh... Wednesday, everything's alright. Everyone is safe, everyone is as they were when you went to sleep. Oh, my dear little thing. You gave your poor father and I quite the fright - but I expect nothing less from an Addams.

 **Wednesday**

I'm sorry... I woke you up.

 **Morticia**

Don't be - you have approached this whole ordeal with your father's steely valiance.

 _The eyegaze computer finally boots up, and Gomez immediately activates the speech software._

 **Gomez**

You're a chip off the old block, my pet.

 _Wednesday just hugs her father tighter, upon hearing his words._

 **Wednesday**

I'm sorry if I scared you.

 **Morticia**

Dear, we adore being scared – you know that. You have nothing to apologize for. Now, Gomez, darling? I think Wednesday could do with some words of reassurance from you, too.

 **Gomez**

She certainly does, the poor thing. Not to worry, Wednesday - I'm quite alright. In fact - I'm more than alright! I am the very picture of contentment, safe in the incomparable care of your mother!

 _Gomez shoots Morticia a wry smile._

 **Gomez**

Now, can you think of anything more "alright" than that?

 _Morticia smiles, sighing. She knows exactly the quiet, cheeky way Gomez would have said that, were he able to speak with his own voice._

 **Wednesday**

I guess not...

 **Morticia**

Your father is _no different_ than he was when you wished him goodnight a few hours ago. You must remember, the care we provide him is not to _cure_ him of any illnesses, but to make his life as normal as possible now that his illness has run its course.

 **Gomez**

 _And_ I'm improving every day!

 _Wednesday nods, but it's clear that something bigger is on her mind. Eventually she plucks up the courage to ask._

 **Wednesday**

Can I ask you something?

 _Gomez tries to be cheeky._

 **Gomez**

Depends – do I know the answer?

 _Wednesday seems nervous to ask._

 **Wednesday**

Why do you take medicine for pain?

 _Morticia and Gomez exchange a look, not knowing where this could be headed._

 **Morticia**

Well, lying in bed all day or sitting in his wheelchair can make your father sore, so a lot of the medicine he takes is to ease that soreness.

 _This is a gross oversimplification, but Morticia doesn't want to individually explain all of Gomez's medications to Wednesday for fear she'll become frightened again._

 **Wednesday**

Is it really sore, father?

 _Gomez makes kind of a shrugging face._

 **Gomez**

I suppose so - but there's nothing an Addams can't handle with a little assistance from modern medicine!

 _Wednesday sighs – this wasn't really what she wanted to hear._

 **Wednesday**

Did you hear my dream?

 _Gomez nods, wishing he could emphasize words._

 **Gomez**

I did indeed, my sweet. And you must know that I would _never_ do such a thing! To regress to that _wretched_ state - I _forbid_ it from happening!

 **Wednesday**

Do you promise?

 **Gomez**

You have my solemn word.

 **Wednesday**

Cross your heart?

 **Gomez**

Of course.

 _Gomez seems a bit saddened by what's going on, but he's also in parent mode, so he tries to phrase things gently. Morticia speaks up._

 **Morticia**

But you know, Wednesday, darling. You don't have to go about, pretending as if you're perfectly content in this situation. We would certainly _never_ expect that of you.

 **Wednesday**

You wouldn't? But I'm n/

 **Morticia**

/Throughout your father's illness and everything that has followed it, dear, you have put up such a brave, noble front. But, you mustn't uphold it if you're afraid to upset us. Your positive attitude to your father throughout this illness has been a blessing, but _please_ \- if it is only for our sakes, you need not to falsify contentment! Why, not even your father is content with this situation, so we have no expectation for his daughter to be.

 **Gomez**

You don't have to spare us!

 **Wednesday**

Well, I don't want anyone to be sad.

 **Morticia**

Sadness is a fact of life, my darling. Your sadness is borne from love. You love your father, and that is why you are sad. To love your father is something you should never apologize for. You show him such undying love, and it is very fair, angel, to have sorrow over the fact that he can no longer show you his love in the ways he used to. You have been the picture of patience and devotion – and, due to all the changes that have occurred to your father's body, it has become necessary to show your father that you love him in different ways than you used to.

 **Wednesday**

Like brushing his teeth?

 **Morticia**

Exactly, dear. Though, he may soon be able to do that himself once more.

 **Wednesday**

And brushing his hair?

 **Morticia**

Yes.

 **Wednesday**

And asking him if he wants to be moved and then moving him if he says yes?

 **Gomez**

Precisely, my dear!

 **Morticia**

But you must know that it's perfectly reasonable to be upset! After all, the ways in which you must show your father love have changed! And your father has had to change the ways he shows you love, too. It's a lot to cope with for a child your age.

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 **Morticia**

He's had to find new ways to show you he loves you – and something like that can take time to get used to! But you must recognize them when he does them – when he smiles at you, or he makes that darling little noise of his at something you said - or when he allows us do such intimate things for him, like clean him, or brush his hair, or teeth. That he allows us to do these things for him is, in itself, his way of showing his love for us.

 **Wednesday**

I love you, daddy.

 _Gomez is still in parent-mode, and dotes on his daughter._

 **Gomez**

And I simply adore you, sweetheart. You are remarkable.

 **Morticia**

And you must remember this above all else. Becoming sick and disabled hasn't changed how much he loves you. Only his body has changed. He still loves you with all his heart.

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, daddy.

 _Gomez gives Wednesday a big, but sadness-tinged smile. Wednesday briefly lifts up her head and kisses his forehead before immediately going back to hugging him tightly._

 **Gomez**

You are most welcome, my darling.

 _Morticia doesn't want Gomez to wake up too much, because it might be hard for him to return to sleep. She tries to corral the two of them back to sleep._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, how about we try to back to sleep?

 _However, this seems to upset Wednesday again._

 **Wednesday**

But it was the worst sleep ever. I bet I'll have the dream again!

 **Morticia**

Well, then, you shall have it! And we shall be there to be your comfort, as we always have been.

 **Wednesday**

I never want to go to sleep again!

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, dear. We all need to sleep - remember what happened to Cousin Crimp?

 _Wednesday nods, remembering what happened to Cousin Crimp, but still not able to completely take her mother's advice._

 **Wednesday**

But if I sleep, I might... have the dream again.

 _Gomez's heart is broken. He is genuinely emotional as he tries to comfort his daughter. It's becoming harder and harder for him to hide his emotions on his face. Everything Wednesday says unintentionally twists the knife deeper. He believes the dream was so upsetting to her because it was the beginning of this extended disability – an extended disability that Gomez is desperately afraid has changed the way Wednesday sees him._

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday _..._ I'm so sorry you had to have a dream like that, my dear.

 _Wednesday hugs her father tighter, almost fearing that if she lets him go, she'll somehow lose him. She, like Gomez, is a complete emotional mess._

 **Wednesday**

Just so long as it doesn't become real again.

 _Gomez was already struggling with feeling like a burden on the family – something he's already spoken to Morticia about many times in the past. To hear that his own daughter is terrified and unable to sleep peacefully because she's so worried about him, and so afraid he'll lose all his faculties again, is the most heart-crushing thing he could hear. He shakes his head getting a bit washed-over with negative thinking again._

 **Gomez**

Frankly, I'm sorry it happened even once.

 **Wednesday**

It's okay.

 _On a deep, almost unconscious level, Gomez is afraid this whole debacle has made him a bad father._

 **Gomez**

To know I've put you through this dreadful ordeal, my love - the mere thought darkens my soul.

 _It kills Morticia to hear Gomez say this to Wednesday, because she wonders how much Wednesday has been internalizing any pain she's been feeling about the whole ordeal._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, dear...

 _Gomez shakes his head, getting more visibly upset, still talking to Wednesday._

 **Gomez**

I feel so guilty, scaring you like this! It pains me! Had this wretched travesty not occurred, I/

 _Wednesday seems to get more upset again, echoing Gomez's growing distress._

 **Wednesday**

/It's so scary, because I/

 _Gomez's words don't stop playing – his entire message plays out at once, and Wednesday goes quiet so she can hear it. She didn't realize it wasn't over._

 **Gomez**

/Wednesday, my darling. Moments like this are almost impossible to bear. I yearn to be back on my feet, restored – to the father you remember!

 _This unsurprisingly upsets Morticia, who can see better than anyone else how completely unchanged as a person he is._

 **Morticia**

Oh, no, Gomez, don't say that. You _are_ the father she remembers.

 _Gomez still carries on, talking to Wednesday._

 **Gomez**

My love, I'm truly sorry I can't be there like I used to. I know you're not accustomed to/

 **Wednesday**

/But I just…/

 _This next message Gomez composed keeps playing, and Wednesday stops speaking as so not to interrupt. He tries to cheer her up the tiniest amount, trying to put a positive spin on the situation, with the rest of his words._

 **Gomez**

/I know I've been a bit off these past few months. But please don't fret – I've been working night and day to return to the man I once was, and will be restored to perfect health in due time! And we shall dance, play some indoor basketball, go diving in our lovely swamp…

 _Gomez doesn't realize that he and Wednesday are having entirely different conversations. Gomez continues to mourn the person he was, believing that that's what Wednesday has been doing too – but Wednesday is really just trying to pluck up the courage to say what she's truly being haunted by._

 **Wednesday**

/I don't know how much longer I can wait.

 _Gomez nods sympathetically, but is devastated internally. He continues to put on as brave a face as he can when speaking with her._

 **Gomez**

I know, Wednesday. Neither do I!

 **Wednesday**

I wish scientists would just invent something that could make you how you used to be.

 _Now hiding his distress a little better, Gomez shakes his head sympathetically, smiling a small, sad smile._

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday. I wish that was the way it worked.

 **Wednesday**

I don't want to wait anymore. It's/

 _But before Wednesday can finish her thought, Morticia speaks. She can't take seeing two of her greatest loves be so torn up. She puts a stop to their wallowing._

 **Morticia**

/Darlings, please! It's neither of your faults. Neither of you has done anything wrong. We mustn't blame your father for becoming sick! Right, Wednesday?

 **Wednesday**

Yeah.

 _Wednesday, a little guiltily nods her head, still hugging her father. Morticia then speaks to Gomez, firmly._

 **Morticia**

Meaning that Gomez, you shouldn't be apologizing either.

 _Gomez nods his head, also a little guiltily, just like his daughter._

 _Morticia sighs._

 **Morticia**

But I know it's difficult to see your father in such a precarious state of being. Of course something like that would inspire a nightmare.

 _Wednesday finally feels brave enough to talk about why the dream was so scary._

 **Wednesday**

Remember when he was still in the hospital? At the very start?

 **Morticia**

Yes, I do.

 _Wednesday clears her throat, sort of uncomfortable with the words she's about to say. She hesitates before just coming out with it._

 **Wednesday**

Dr Benson said he was in unbearable pain, and... he was gonna die.

 _Morticia pets Wednesday on the head, trying to soothe her._

 **Morticia**

Yes, he did say that, dear.

 _Wednesday seems, on the spot, to burst right back into tears again, apropos of nothing. She sobs back into her father's chest, surprising him, and holding onto him even tighter than before. Morticia wants to ask her to back down a little, but doesn't dare separate her from her father. Wednesday seems completely hysterical again, and racked by guilt. Gomez and Morticia both just stare, stunned, and both feeling as helpless as each other._

 **Wednesday**

Mother... I'm sorry for saying I couldn't wait much longer. I just don't want him to be/

 **Morticia**

/Wednesday, _darling_ /

 **Gomez**

That's quite alright Wednesday, I understand.

 _Finally, Wednesday shushes both her parents, thinking if she doesn't say this now, she'll never be brave enough to say it again._

 **Wednesday**

No, no! You _don't_ understand! I don't care if you never get any better!

 _Morticia and Gomez – Gomez especially, who's been so guilty about not being able to do any traditional fatherly activities with his daughter – take a moment to process this - neither of them expected to hear her say that, of all things. Gomez and Morticia are both perplexed._

 **Gomez**

You don't?

 _Wednesday shakes her head whilst she's still buried in her father's chest. Finally, she looks up and looks her father in the eyes, looking beyond upset. She can barely even get the word out._

 **Wednesday**

I just... don't want you to be in "unbearable pain"!

 _Wednesday immediately goes back to hugging Gomez closely and tightly. She squeezes him hard, absolutely never wanting to let him go. Morticia and Gomez both rally into action, trying to comfort her and banish her fears._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling! Don't worry, don't worry! Your father isn't in any unbearable pain. He's not even in any _bearable_ pain most of the time, thanks to his medications.

 **Wednesday**

But I'm scared he will be, I don't want him to hurt.

 **Gomez**

Wednesday! All I want is for _you_ not to hurt!

 **Wednesday**

I'm only hurt when you're hurt.

 **Gomez**

And I'm not!

 **Wednesday**

Please stay that way, daddy.

 **Morticia**

Oh my poor angel, he will. He will.

 _Wednesday speaks with her voice barely above a whisper as she admits her biggest fear._

 **Wednesday**

I... don't want you to die, daddy.

 _Morticia and Gomez's hearts both collectively rise and sink when they realize that what Wednesday is worried about isn't going to happen - and then, they hear her call him daddy - and know that this worry and inner torture must be severe. She doesn't call him that unless she's extremely serious. Morticia puts her hand on her daughter's shoulder and tries calming her down as she cries into her father's chest._

 **Morticia**

Please, don't cry, darling. Your father is _not_ going to/

 _Wednesday sobs._

 **Wednesday**

/ _Please_ don't die of your disease, _please..._

 _Gomez wants so badly to be able to hug her back._

 **Gomez**

Rest assured my love, I certainly won't!

 **Morticia**

Gomez has _vanquished_ his disease, Wednesday! There is no way for it to affect him anymore. The disease is gone - what you see are the aftereffects.

 **Wednesday**

But he won't get worse, will he?

 **Morticia**

Poor angel, worrying so much. Your father will only get better and better from here on.

 _Wednesday seems unconvinced - as if this is too good to be true._

 **Wednesday**

Father, if you died it would ruin my life.

 _Gomez doesn't know what more he can do or say to convince her._

 **Gomez**

Darling, I promise you! I'm here to stay!

 _Wednesday seems to quieten just a little bit._

 **Wednesday**

Do you really promise?

 **Gomez**

I'm not going anywhere, my dear. I'm quite content where I am!

 **Wednesday**

Good.

 _Wednesday looks up and speaks to her father, looking him directly in his eyes._

 **Wednesday**

I don't care if you have to stay in bed forever! Just as long as you're not in pain and you don't die!

 _Morticia sees an opportunity to help Gomez feel a bit better overall about his situation._

 **Morticia** _(trying to prove the point she made to Gomez the other day)_

You wouldn't mind if he were bedridden forever?

 **Wednesday**

No! I'd look after him every day.

 **Morticia**

And you wouldn't mind that?

 **Wednesday**

No, he's my father!

 **Morticia**

And you would visit him in his bed _every single day?_

 **Wednesday**

I'd spend as much time as I could here!

 _Morticia gives Gomez a very telling look. Gomez seems perplexed that Wednesday seems to be unconcerned with his disability as long as he's alive._

 **Gomez**

But what about the father you remember? Don't you long for him?

 **Wednesday**

I just don't want you to be that way 'cause I get scared you'll get worse again. You look so sick in bed sometimes. It's scary.

 **Morticia**

But, knowing he is in no danger of declining, you don't mind how he is now?

 **Wednesday**

Just so long as he doesn't get worse.

 **Morticia**

He won't, we promise you, he won't. He's able to drive himself about in his wheelchair. And you know, he can drive with his fingers now? Finally, no more need for him to rely on his eyes to control that chair. Do you like that?

 **Wednesday**

I _love_ that.

 **Morticia**

You do?

 **Wednesday**

Cause we can go places and do things like before.

 **Morticia**

And it doesn't feel different to you? He still feels like the father you've always known?

 **Wednesday**

It feels different, but not bad.

 **Gomez**

How's that, my pet?

 **Wednesday**

Well... you're in a wheelchair, and you talk with a computer and you have a tube in your neck and we have to feed you with a spoon. Besides that, you're the same.

 **Morticia**

Did you hear that, Gomez? Take heed.

 _Wednesday is calmer now. She thinks about it._

 **Wednesday**

I can still talk to you, go shopping, play games, show you my dolls, do a dance recital in the living room, tell you stories, you can still tell me stories, go moonbathing, see you and mother kissing a lot...

 _Morticia wells up but hides it._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, you _are_ an angel. Did you know your father was worried that you thought his condition was a burden?

 _Wednesday sits up, curiously._

 **Wednesday**

What's a burden?

 **Morticia**

A bother - a huge inconvenience, that ruins your life.

 _Wednesday absolutely does not want Gomez to think this. She immediately drops back down into hugging her father._

 **Wednesday**

 _No!_

 _Wednesday returns to sobbing._

 **Wednesday**

 _No no no no no no no! Father, don't say that!_

 _Gomez doesn't know what to do._

 **Gomez**

I'm sorry, Wednesday!

 **Wednesday**

If you were dead, _that_ would be a burden! Cause you'd be suffering a lot, or you'd be gone!

 _Gomez tries again to convince Wednesday he's going nowhere._

 **Gomez**

I solemnly swear Wednesday, I won't leave you!

 _Morticia puts a hand on Wednesday's shoulder. Neither parent knows what more they can do to convince her he's not in danger of death._

 **Morticia**

He means every word, darling. Your poor, diligent father has to put real thought into the words he types. He can't just say the first thing that comes into his head like you or I. He means what he says.

 **Gomez**

It's true!

 **Wednesday**

 _Please_ \- you don't need to get better, as long as you don't die.

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling.

 **Wednesday**

I don't care if you don't move or speak ever again, I love you no matter what, just don't die.

 _Gomez doesn't know what more he can say. He wishes he knew the answer as to what would ease her pain._

 **Gomez**

My pet, I would never die on you.

 _Wednesday sniffles a little._

 **Wednesday**

Good. Mommy said the tube in your neck keeps you alive cause it breathes for you.

 **Gomez**

She's right!

 **Wednesday**

Please please please, never take it out!

 _Gomez is baffled as to why anyone would remove it anyway._

 **Gomez**

That would be a tad reckless, don't you think?

 _Wednesday kisses the trach tube._ _Gomez smiles bemusedly, but also quite moved. He shakes his head the tiniest amount, unable to believe how sweet that was._

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday. You're cute as a bat's fang.

 **Morticia**

You are both earthly angels, the two of you.

 **Gomez**

Better make that three.

 **Wednesday**

You're still able to do the stuff I care about, daddy. But nothing else bad can happen to you, it's not fair.

 **Gomez**

Fear not, my dear. Nothing will! And I say that with the utmost confidence!

 **Wednesday**

Good. I love you so much.

 _She kisses her father's forehead. Gomez smiles, proud of her._

 **Gomez**

Ah, the Addams spirit burns so brightly within you, my darling!

 **Morticia**

But your father won't have to be bedridden forever. He's getting a tiny bit better every day.

 **Wednesday**

I wouldn't even mind if you had to stay in bed though.

 **Morticia**

You are a little angel, Wednesday.

 **Gomez**

I've heard of others who have become withdrawn and socially isolated when dealing with a catastrophe like this. But you, Wednesday. You have shown such selflessness. You have my eternal gratitude, my dear.

 **Wednesday**

If you were dead, you wouldn't be here.

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Wednesday**

If you weren't here I wouldn't know what to do.

 **Morticia**

But he _is_ here, Wednesday, and we have all assured you that there is no conceivable way for his disease to take his life. How could it? He doesn't have it anymore.

 _Wednesday doesn't seem to be listening._

 **Wednesday**

I couldn't hug you if you were dead.

 **Gomez**

Only up to burial!

 **Wednesday**

If you died, I would miss everything about you.

 _Morticia seeks to cement this point even further to Gomez._

 **Morticia**

There are a lot of things your father has lost the ability to do – you don't miss those things?

 **Wednesday**

I don't mean those kind of things. They're not important.

 **Morticia**

Walking isn't important?

 **Wednesday**

Nope.

 **Morticia**

Speaking and breathing aren't important?

 **Wednesday**

No, only spending time with you, and talking to you, and you talking to me, and listening to me and playing with me, however you can.

 **Morticia**

Hear that, darling? It seems your physical capabilities aren't important to Wednesday.

 _Gomez is genuinely completely floored. He can't even process it. He shakes his head a little in disbelief._

 **Gomez**

Astounding, querida. Absolutely astounding. I wouldn't believe it myself had I not just heard her say it!

 **Wednesday**

I don't care how you are, just so long as it isn't dead.

 **Morticia**

Gomez, Wednesday loves you for who you are, not what you can do. It's as simple as that.

 **Gomez**

Great jumping catfish, my pet, I admire your compassion!

 _Gomez looks at Morticia, right in the eye, as the computer says the rest of his words aloud._

 **Gomez**

You move me, my darling! You truly are your mother's daughter!

 _Then, Gomez looks down at Wednesday._

 **Gomez**

Thank you. Truly.

 **Wednesday**

Just keep your promise.

 **Gomez**

An Addams never breaks a promise! Not without good reason!

 **Wednesday**

Thank you, daddy. I just… people are so mean to you. I don't want you to be hurt, your body _or_ your feelings! I wanna protect you.

 **Gomez**

Oh, Wednesday, my dear little thing. I don't need protecting!

 **Wednesday**

But after what Clementine said…

 **Gomez**

Banish the thought! Clementine's irrational!

 **Morticia**

She doesn't know a thing about your father! She's just a bully, darling.

 **Wednesday**

I know…

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, I think you ought to sleep. Lay down here between us, and we shall forbid any further nightmares.

 **Wednesday**

I'm sorry if you thought I only liked you when you were well. That isn't true.

 **Morticia**

Oh, Wednesday, we know.

 **Wednesday**

I hope you're alright.

 **Gomez**

Not to worry, dear, I'm right as rain!

 **Wednesday**

I love you no matter how you are. I just don't like being afraid you'll die.

 **Morticia**

And he won't. Yes, Gomez?

 **Gomez**

Don't worry about a thing! I most certainly will not!

 **Wednesday**

You promised, remember?

 **Gomez**

Of course, my sweet. Gomez Addams does not forget!

 _Wednesday finally slips off her father's chest and cuddles between her parents._

 **Wednesday**

Good. Sorry I woke you up and made you sad.

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

You need not apologize, my darling.

 **Morticia**

There will be no more apologizing! Both of you are blameless!

 _Wednesday nods. She gets cozy, absorbing both her parents' body heat and getting nice and tucked in under the covers. Morticia reaches to turn off the bedside lamp again. As the room darkens, the light of Gomez's computer still shines brightly. He adjusts the brightness, and opens up a text messaging app. This signals to Morticia to grab her phone. Gomez sends her a text message as Wednesday drifts back to sleep. Obviously, he still wants to talk, but doesn't want to wake her by having the voice speak aloud._

 _Morticia picks up her phone and sees a message that Gomez has just composed and sent._

 **Gomez**

That little girl. All heart!

 **Morticia**

Did her words banish your fears, darling?

 **Gomez**

Most certainly!

 _He sends a follow-up text._

 **Gomez**

Tish – how was I so fortunate?

 _Morticia shoots him a coy look._

 **Morticia**

Like attracts like.

 _Gomez is still just amazed. He looks at Morticia in bewilderment after sending the text._

 **Gomez**

Did you ever see a more compassionate child?

 _Morticia shakes her head back at Gomez, overflowing with pride._

 **Morticia**

Never. Moments like these reassure me we raised her the right way. She only wishes for you to be alive, and there for her. Nothing else matters.

 _Gomez nods, agreeing, in awe of his incredible family._

 **Gomez**

That's love.

 _Morticia smiles devilishly at Gomez, deliberately joking a little._

 **Morticia**

I wonder from whom she inherited it?

 _Gomez seems surprised she's even asking this – of course, the answer is her._

 **Gomez**

Why, querida mia! From you!

 _Morticia knew Gomez might react more literally to this statement. She knowingly smiles at his predictability, and continues playing coy._

 **Morticia**

 _And_ _you_ , darling. You would do the same for me in a heartbeat.

 _Gomez nods very definitely at this._

 **Gomez**

Unquestionably, cara. Unquestionably!

 _Morticia reaches across the bed and playfully boops his nose as she speaks – then, she begins petting his cheek._

 **Morticia**

Then, I do believe she's her father's daughter!

 _Gomez rolls his head over to look at Morticia as he sends his response, trying, still, to assure her of her selflessness – genuinely thinking that Morticia thinks Wednesday got her compassion from him, and him alone._

 **Gomez**

And her mother's! Tish, you are wonderful. You have been the picture of loyalty and devotion! The perfect caregiver!

 _Morticia can't help but be charmed at how cute Gomez is being, trying to ensure she knows she's wonderful._

 **Morticia**

Very well – and her mother's, too. But I do what I must, after all. "In sickness and health", _mon cher..._

 _Gomez raises his eyebrows. Even imagining her saying "mon cher" aloud drives him wild._

 **Gomez**

Even through text alone, Tish – those beautiful French words! You _are_ beguiling.

 **Morticia**

And you – ravishingly handsome, even in the face of such strenuous circumstances.

 _Morticia places her hand right up to Gomez's mouth, and he kisses it once – twice – three times – four times – and he is about to do it a fifth time when she pulls her hand away and starts stroking his hair. Gomez goes back to texting her, unable to contain his words inside of him._

 **Gomez**

Morticia…

 **Morticia** _(whispering quietly, but audibly, so Gomez can hear)_

Gomez…

 **Gomez**

It's a night like this that just makes you feel glad to be alive!

 _Morticia reaches under the covers for Gomez's arm, intending to place his arm around Wednesday, who now sleeps peacefully between them, laying on her front. She takes Gomez's hand, and gently raises it up, along with the rest of his arm, while still under the covers, before carefully laying his arm across Wednesday's back._

 **Morticia** _(whispering aloud again)_

And we are so, so glad that you are alive, my angel.

 _Morticia gets cozy now, putting her phone back on the bedside table, then getting comfortable laying on her back with her arm tucked up beside Wednesday._

 _Gomez gets an impulsive thought. His arm is still around Wednesday's back, but it's close enough to Morticia's arm, which is by her side, for him to try taking her hand. His hands and fingers are slowly improving by the day, and his wrist is also slowly starting to flicker back to life more and more. He shifts his wrist the tiniest bit, using everything he can to angle his hand down, off of Wednesday's arm and just a half-inch or so more to where Morticia's hand lays. Millimetre by millimetre, he forces his hand the tiniest bit closer to Morticia's, a huge amount of effort going in to pushing his hand to hers. Finally, he feels her hand, and, thrilled to have reached it, he relaxes. He moves his fingers as best he can into his wife's hand. His fingers are still weak and don't completely obey his every command, but they work just well enough to rest on her hand, and curl the tiniest amount that they can around it._

 _Morticia, for a brief moment, just accepts this as normal, night-time behaviour from her husband. She reflexively slides her fingers in between his, before her eyes go wide. Her husband just moved his hand and wrist enough to find her hand, and then move his fingers enough for her to recognize he was taking her hand. She turns to Gomez, who's laying there, utterly triumphantly, pleased as punch with himself. He smiles devilishly but also gratefully, a weird mix of triumph, playfulness and gratitude on his face._

 **Morticia** _(still whispering)_

 _Gomez!_

 _Gomez just keeps smiling, and gives her a nod as if to say "I know!"._

 **Morticia** _(still whispering)_

You _wonderful, darling, lovestruck_ _man!_

 _Gomez makes his shrugging facial expression again, his grin plastered on his face. What more can he do with her not on the phone anymore?_

 **Morticia** _(still whispering)_

Darling, try to sleep. Don't over-exert yourself at this hour! But… oh, I'm awfully glad you did.

 _Gomez continues smiling wickedly, allowing his computer to go into sleep mode due to inactivity. The room is now shrouded in darkness other than some of the lights on his ventilator._

 **Morticia** _(still whispering)_

 _Darling,_ were Wednesday not between us, I would be far more enthusiastic! But I just can't wake her after the night she's had.

 _Morticia can vaguely make out Gomez nodding in agreement._

 **Morticia** _(still whispering)_

You truly are _so_ full of surprises… _bubeleh_...

 _Knowing this is going to drive Gomez wild, she closes her eyes, with a satisfied and truly joyful little smile on her face._

 _She feels Gomez weakly squeeze her hand in response to his favourite term of endearment._

 _In response, Morticia squeezes his hand back. And then Gomez squeezes her hand again – and then she squeezes his again._

 _Neither has to be able to see each other well to know that the other is smiling widely – tired, yes – but utterly, in this moment, content._


	51. Day 178 (Part 1)

_**AN:**_ _I didn't mean for this to be in two parts but it's gonna have to be, because I have been so busy this week with work. I would have written more but I have a show in an hour and a half and I wanted to bring you guys something, so here you go. Thank you for the extremely positive feedback I got on the last chapter, I'm very pleased y'all liked it! In the meantime, enjoy this romantic little romp._

* * *

 _The day of Mortcia and Gomez's 14th anniversary has come, and the two of them have decided to have a romantic night out in a fancy restaurant they used to frequent, called the Raven's Perch. It is in the city, and so, a large operation involving lurch chauffeuring has taken place to get Gomez out of the house and ready for the city. Additionally, Gomez has requested that the slings be brought so he can try feeding himself his own anniversary dinner. Hence, in addition to transporting Gomez, Lurch has also had to go through a whole rigamarole of getting the stand and the slings into the car too._

 _We pick up just as Morticia and Lurch have finished transferring Gomez out of the wheelchair accessible van they've rented, wheelchair and all. Morticia and Gomez are now on the sidewalk, a few yards from the restaurant. Morticia waves goodbye to Lurch, holding the stand in her hand, the slings swinging off of it._

 _Both Morticia and Gomez are dressed as they normally are, except Morticia has put on some fancy silk gloves, and Gomez is wearing a bow-tie. As The Raven's Perch is only a few yards away, they don't have a long walk to endure attracting the public's curious stares. Nonetheless, the sight of the two of them, and especially Morticia wheeling a large stand across the sidewalk, does catch some people's eyes._

 _They approach the entrance to the restaurant, which Morticia steps right up to._

 **Morticia**

There we are, Gomez, darling.

 _She opens the door, and with her foot, she slides a handy doorstop under it._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, my dear!

 _As before, Gomez's hand has been carefully placed by Morticia to lie on top of the joystick at the end of his armrest. Despite a lot of physiotherapy, Gomez has not regained much movement in his arms in general, but as before, has seen marked improvements on a daily basis in hands – especially his fingers – and his wrists. Gomez only has to put some very light pressure on the joystick to drive his chair, which he does with aplomb. He drives himself into the waiting area of the restaurant. Morticia smiles lovingly, moving the doorstop away and closing the door behind them. Then, she takes the stand again, and wheels it in behind her husband._

 _Morticia approaches the front desk, and is greeted by a surprised looking waiter._

 **Waiter**

Ah, Mrs Addams! Hello. Thanks for the advance notice on your reservation.

 **Morticia**

Oh, good. I had thought it might be a tad too late, booking this day last year.

 **Gomez**

Remarkable foresight, cara mia!

 **Waiter**

And who is this?

 **Morticia**

That's just dear Gomez. We haven't been able to get out much lately.

 **Waiter**

Gomez is your husband, yes? The one who usually calls us to reserve tables?

 **Gomez**

Got it in one, my boy!

 **Waiter**

What happened to you? We haven't seen you in months. You used to come in every day.

 **Morticia**

My darling husband was previously suffering from a dreadful infirmity, but he is recovering beautifully. Next year, you can expect to see him much improved!

 **Gomez**

If not better!

 **Waiter**

Oh, okay. Uh. Well, you know this place is like… notoriously not accessible, right?

 **Morticia**

It is?

 **Waiter**

This place is in an underground vault. You eat here all the time, you do know this, yes?

 **Morticia**

I suppose we hadn't considered that.

 _Morticia seems flustered._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, would you prefer if we went elsewhere?

 _Gomez shakes his head, still zen about this._

 **Gomez**

Don't worry, querida mia. A slight hiccup, that's all!

 **Waiter**

We _could_ have you use the old lift, but it's a little decrepit.

 _Morticia and Gomez look at each other, thrilled._

 **Gomez**

Decrepit?

 **Morticia**

My, that sounds absolutely darling.

 **Gomez**

Dim lights? Cold, rusted metal? A dark, dripping elevator shaft?

 **Waiter**

Yep. All of the above.

 **Gomez**

By George, old man! Decrepit? You must be mad!

 _The waiter shrugs, not knowing what to do._

 **Waiter**

I guess I must be, risking letting a guy like you using the lift.

 _Morticia tries to get the waiter on-side._

 **Morticia**

It sounds ever so romantic, sir. And it's Gomez and I's anniversary.

 **Waiter**

I don't know why I'm seriously considering letting you use this. Even if you are regulars. It goes against every single customer safety violation in the book.

 _Gomez gives the waiter a look._

 **Gomez**

And those aren't just a novelty to gawk at, old boy! The man in Starbucks refused to serve me hot coffee!

 **Waiter**

Well, that does seem a bit unfair. Alright. Fine. Because you're valued customers.

 _Morticia and Gomez look ever so pleased with themselves as the waiter gestures for them to follow him over to the old, rusty lift. Morticia wheels the stand with her, and Gomez drives himself. Both of their faces light up when they see the lift, totally enamoured with it._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, it's splendid!

 _Gomez smiles wickedly, feeling romantic._

 **Gomez**

Reminds me of that abandoned mineshaft we picnicked in.

 **Morticia**

Our second honeymoon in Nairobi. We caught so many bats that day.

 **Gomez**

It was breathtaking, cara mia – to wrangle bats with you, in such a romantic place.

 **Morticia**

You looked so handsome, net in hand.

 _Gomez gets a little embarrassed but obviously flattered. He smiles, humbly, as Morticia places her hand on his shoulder, leans down beside him, and kisses his cheek._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara.

 **Morticia**

You looked almost as handsome as you do now.

 **Waiter**

Hello?

 _Both Gomez and Morticia return from their romantic sidetrack and stare at the waiter._

 **Gomez**

Ah yes. Where were we?

 **Waiter**

The lift. I gather it's to your liking, then?

 **Morticia**

Without question, sir. Allow us.

 _Morticia presses the button on the wall beside the lift. When she presses it, she pulls away her finger to reveal she's just displaced a substantial layer of dust. Morticia shivers – the night is getting more romantic by the moment._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, look.

 _She shows Gomez her finger. Then, she wipes the dust into her eyeshadow without a moment's thought, freaking out the waiter. She turns to look at Gomez after blinking her eyes a few times, and Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

Darling, you look exquisite.

 _The distant sound of a squeaky, rusty rumble becomes faintly audible. The squeaking of metal on metal gets louder and louder as the lift ascends from within the elevator shaft, and comes to a deafening screen after a few seconds. The doors on the lift finally jerk open, looking incredibly unstable. The entire inside of the lift is covered in dust and cobwebs. There's some mystery substances on the floor, and something wet dripping from the top of it. Some creature has left its dried droppings on the floor. One of the lights has gone out, and the other one flickers on and off, as in a horror movie. In other words, it's even better than Morticia and Gomez had hoped._

 _Both of them are enchanted by it, much to the waiter's very obvious confusion._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

Young man, you've outdone yourself. Expect a substantial tip.

 **Waiter**

Oh. Uh. Great?

 **Gomez**

How does a thousand dollars sound?

 **Waiter**

Wait, what did you say, was that a typo, or/

 **Gomez**

/Forget it! I'll buy the company and make you a manager!

 _The waiter doesn't believe Gomez, even though Gomez himself is completely serious. Still, the waiter politely shrugs._

 **Waiter**

Uh. Sure. Okay. Both would be nice.

 **Gomez**

Ask and you'll receive, old sport!

 **Morticia**

Oh, he's generous to a fault.

 _Morticia places a hand gently on Gomez's head and strokes his hair lovingly, before remembering why they've come here in the first place._

 **Morticia**

But enough talk. Gomez, it's time to get some food in your stomach!

 _The waiter steps back._

 **Waiter**

Don't die!

 _Gomez grins, smiling chirpily._

 **Gomez**

No guarantees!

 **Morticia**

That's the fun of it!

 _Gomez laughs, making an audible wheeze-groan as he does, and his signature laughing-jerking motion. The waiter seems a little perturbed._

 **Morticia**

After you, my darling.

 _The waiter shakes his head, and steps back further. Gomez drives his wheelchair into the lift, and as soon as the majority of the wheelchair's weight is on the lift's floor, everyone sees it groan under its weight, and Gomez even feels the floor sink a bit. Gomez smiles wickedly at this. Morticia sighs happily and moves into the lift too, wheeling the stand inside the already cramped space._

 **Waiter**

Well, thanks. Hope you, uh. Enjoy your meal. Catch me with a life sentence you die.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense! We'll call it an accident! Get you 20 years max!

 _This does nothing to assuage the waiter's fears as the lift doors close. The waiter yells._

 **Waiter**

Floor -1!

 **Gomez**

Thanks for your help, old man!

 _The lift doors close completely, making a dull thud as the two doors finally join together. With a huge, unsettling creak, the lift begins to descend, scraping against the wall of the elevator shaft. The lift moves extremely slowly. Morticia and Gomez both smile, contented and completely enraptured._

 **Gomez**

You look beguiling, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

And you, breathtakingly handsome.

 _Gomez is feeling playful and self-deprecating._

 **Gomez**

Querida. I have no breath left to take!

 **Morticia**

Oh, angel. You're so resilient.

 **Gomez**

And you, so enchanting.

 **Morticia**

Happy anniversary, my darling. Here.

 _Morticia leans down, and takes Gomez's hand. Gomez curls his fingers around Morticia's hand, showing off his current range of motion in his fingers. Morticia strokes his hand, and raises it up, lifting his arm in the process. She kisses his hand, before moving their joined hands over to Gomez's mouth, allowing him to kiss her hand as well. Then, she leans in to Gomez, and the two of them kiss, passionately, on the lips. Once – twice – three times, the two get lost in the romance of the moment, taking in the "magical" surroundings._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. I can feel the passion radiating from your body. How do you stand it?

 _Gomez shakes his head, seemingly beginning to sweat._

 **Gomez**

I don't, querida mia. Kiss me again!

 _So, Morticia leans back down, and the two of them return to kissing. Gomez is feeling incredibly frustrated, wanting to be able to hold her and take her in his arms, and wrap his arms around her. Instead, most of the instigating has been left up to Morticia, who is extremely gentle and loving in the way she moves her husband when they're both in this heightened state of passion._

 _Morticia is so engulfed by passion, she even slips in a little bit of tongue as they continue to kiss. In response to this, Morticia opens her eyes briefly enough to see that Gomez's eyes have opened too, and have widened. Gomez can barely move his tongue, doing range of motion exercises with it on the daily in order to get his speech back. He manages to move his tongue a tiny bit in each direction as Morticia kisses him. Though small, the movements are no longer negligible as they were at the beginning of the speaking valve being inserted. She feels him move his tongue, and is taken aback by his cute effort. She pulls away, beaming._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, I felt that! You moved your tongue!

 _Gomez can't tell when he moves something enough for someone else to notice. He's pleasantly surprised._

 **Gomez**

Really?

 **Morticia**

Yes, dear.

 _Morticia playfully pets his cheek._

 **Morticia**

I ought to have expected it, you showing off like that. Your tongue has been working so hard lately.

 _Gomez wheeze-groans audibly in response, a little embarrassed but overall, happy to know his progress is noticeable._

 **Morticia**

You incurable romantic.

 _She goes back down to kiss his forehead. When she pulls away after doing so, the two of them just look into each other's eyes. They don't need to say anything for these brief moments, just totally swept away by the other._

 **Morticia**

The way this light hits you, Gomez. It's so becoming. You look the picture of class.

 **Gomez**

And you, cara. You _are bewitching._

 _Right as Gomez says this, the lift grinds to a violent halt, and the doors jerk open. As soon as they do, the busy restaurant's noises can be heard. Morticia and Gomez exchange excited glances._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my. Over already? That's a shame. Well, no matter.

 **Gomez**

I'm so hungry, I could eat a liquefied elephant!

 **Morticia**

You may not have to eat liquefied for much longer, the way your mouth movement has been going, dear.

 _Morticia hears Gomez's stomach growl._

 **Morticia**

Oh dear, you _are_ hungry. Let's get you some food, my sweet.

 _Gomez drives himself out of the lift. The lift leads out to a short passageway that feeds right into the dining room, which is filled with tables. Not many are occupied though, making this a perfect, intimate choice for an anniversary dinner. As Gomez's wheelchair moves out of the lift, Morticia feels the lift's floor seem to suddenly lighten. Morticia pays it no mind, and wheels the stand out as well. When the lift doors close, the two of them make their way down the short passage and into the dining room, where a waitress greets them. She seems prepared to deal with them._

 **Waitress**

Mr and Mrs Addams?

 **Morticia**

Booking for two, for 8 o'clock, yes.

 **Waitress**

Right this way, Mr and Mrs Addams.

 _The waitress leads them to a quiet table in the corner – Morticia specifically requested a quiet table away from the busy area, so she can hear the voice from her husband's computer. Gomez still expertly drives himself around, able to use the current amount of strength he has in his fingers to pretty much move the joystick in any direction. Eventually, he parks himself at the table as the waitress takes away one of the chairs to make space for him. Morticia takes a seat not opposite him, but at the next place at the square table, perpendicular to him. This is so she can feed him if needs be, though Gomez is hoping to be feeding himself tonight for the most part. Morticia then remembers the stand, and returns to her feet briefly, placing the stand behind Gomez's wheelchair, and lowering the slings to the position Harvey told her was best._

 **Waitress**

Would you like to see the menu? Soup of the day is cream of yak.

 **Gomez**

Superb! I'll take one!

 **Morticia**

As will I. I simply _must_ know what it's like.

 **Gomez**

You have exquisite taste, my dear.

 **Waitress**

And for the main course?

 **Gomez**

I'll just have my usual!

 **Waitress**

Eye of newt brisket with blood sausage and mashed hornet larva?

 **Gomez**

Capital!

 **Morticia**

And I think I'll have the hemlock and belladonna salad, myself. But do remember to let the chefs know to run my husband's main course order through the blender a few times, merely to soften it. It need not be entirely liquefied at this point, but my husband can still only take soft foods.

 **Waitress**

Got it. Anything else?

 **Morticia**

I believe that's everything for now. Anything more and we shall let you know.

 _The waitress nods, and goes into the kitchen. Morticia and Gomez are left alone, to be romantic together._


	52. Day 178 (Part 2)

_**AN:**_ _Sorry, probably not my best but I couldn't just not give you guys something to read after the week of work I've had. At this point if any of you have any ideas for things you'd like to see happen (within reason) in the next couple chapters, I'd be chuffed to have some inspiration!_

* * *

 _Morticia and Gomez are still at their table, having already finished their soup for their starter. Gomez now has the fancy bib that these high-end restaurants provide tucked into his shirt collar and functioning as a bib. Morticia also recognizes that the underground vaults may be cold, so she's draped a blanket over her husband's lap. Morticia has moved even closer to Gomez as they wait for their main course. While they wait, Gomez shows Morticia his stocks on his computer, and explains how the widget works._

 **Gomez**

And as you can see, Consolidated Lint is up!

 **Morticia**

That _is_ a shame, dear. I suppose not every investment can make a loss. I do hope you're not disappointed.

 _Gomez softly shakes his head, trying to banish her concerns._

 **Gomez**

Not at all! I don't own any!

 _Morticia sighs – of course he doesn't own any. She places her hand on his, and gives it a little squeeze, which he reciprocates._

 **Morticia**

But of course, dear. Your business acumen has always been inspired.

 _Gomez smiles wryly._

 **Gomez**

You're making me blush.

 _Morticia continues, pointing to the computer screen again._

 **Morticia**

And you command that… widget… with such poise and dignity!

 _Morticia leans in to kiss Gomez on the cheek, to which Gomez beams widely and savours the moment. He keeps his eyes closed for a few moments, in bliss, before briefly opening his eyes and quickly writing a message on the screen. As he does, Morticia doesn't notice, and kisses his cheek again._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, I hate to interrupt, but I believe we have company.

 _The waitress from before is standing right behind Morticia with the two meals, prepared exactly to their specifications._

 _Morticia turns around, pleasantly surprised and completely unbothered that the waitress saw them being lovey-dovey. By this point, everyone who works in the Raven's Perch has seen them be gooey with each other at one time or another._

 **Morticia**

Ah, such a prompt service. Thank you.

 **Waitress**

For you, Mrs Addams.

 _The waitress sets down Morticia's meal. The salad is emitting a bizarre steam, which Morticia inhales. She takes in the scent and is instantly impressed._

 **Morticia**

 _Magnifique!_

 _This sets Gomez off. He immediately turns his head as best he can to look at his wife, directly in the eyes. He lets out a small wheezy noise, barely above a whisper, before he composes his next sentence to Morticia. It's clear that were he able to speak the words, he'd be speaking in a low, passionate whisper._

 **Gomez**

Tish! You just parlez-voused!

 _Morticia smiles coyly._

 **Morticia**

Later, Gomez. Your food, remember?

 _Gomez nods, remembering where he is._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes. My food.

 _The waitress sets down the softened/liquefied version of the eye of newt brisket with blood sausage and mashed hornet larva in front of Gomez. Although Morticia spoonfed Gomez the soup herself, Gomez intends now to test his prowess at feeding himself with the main course._

 **Waitress**

Anything else, just let us know.

 **Gomez**

Splendid!

 **Morticia**

You are such an _understanding_ establishment.

 **Waitress**

For much-missed regulars, anything.

 _Morticia and Gomez both seem bashful at that._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, aren't they such sweet dears?

 **Gomez**

Positively saccharine, querida!

 **Waitress**

Well, you're very welcome. Enjoy your meal.

 _The waitress leaves Morticia and Gomez to dine._

 _Morticia gets up, finally ready to move the stand into its final position, allowing Gomez to feed himself._

 _Firstly, she secures the stand down, locking the wheels in place. She then gently lifts up her husband's arms and slides them through the slings, before repositioning the slings as close to Gomez's mouth as possible. If you can't picture this, imagine his hands hanging in place in slings, positioned sort of like medieval stocks. Morticia then makes sure to check this is alright before she keeps going._

 **Morticia**

Everything feels comfortable, yes, Gomez?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Certainly does, my dear!

 **Morticia**

Excellent.

 _Morticia sighs, proudly._

 **Morticia**

You're doing remarkably… _bubeleh._

 _But before Gomez can even tell her what that word does to him, Morticia leans in and kisses Gomez on the cheek. He smiles again, savouring the moment of affection. No matter where, no matter when, he is always swept away by her._

 _Morticia then takes the two spoon attachments from the bag on the back of the powerchair and attaches them to Gomez's two hands._

 _Gomez's fingers weakly curl around the attachments, but not really strongly enough that he would be able to grip them were they not attached to his hand with Velcro. Still, it's the best he can do and he wants to be practicing gripping, even if his grip isn't strong enough to hold anything yet._

 **Morticia**

Are you ready, darling?

 _Gomez nods, weakly raising an eyebrow and giving her a wry look._

 **Gomez**

Never readier, querida mia! To love!

 _Morticia smiles, charmed by how cheesy that was._

 **Morticia**

To love, my angel. I'll affix the tray and we'll begin. But you must remember, if you become tired, you _must_ tell me, rather than risk choking. Understood?

 **Gomez**

Of course!

 _Gomez gives her a cheesy raise of his eyebrow as the words play aloud. Morticia strokes his hair, talking to him in a low, comforting voice – and maybe slightly sensually._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling. You _are_ the quick learner… but _of course_ you are. You're an Addams! The handsomest and shrewdest of all the Addams men!

 **Gomez**

Flatterer.

 _Gomez shakes his head, humble, but grinning ear to ear. Morticia kisses him on the forehead as he responds to her. Gomez hasn't even done anything yet, so he's not even sure what he's done to deserve this praise. The truth is just that when Gomez first became sick and couldn't move anything or even open his eyes, Morticia never would have envisioned that the two of them would ever be able to have a romantic dinner together again. Now, they're here, and it's happening, and she's so proud of her husband – and indeed, her family. And herself, for getting through this._

 _Morticia takes the final, foldable metal tray out of the bag on the back of Gomez's wheelchair and attaches it to the chair itself, very high up and very near Gomez's chin. His tracheostomy tube is repositioned to give Morticia more space to place the bowl on. Morticia plops the bowl carefully on the tray, and sits back in her chair, watching intently, not paying any attention to her own meal yet._

 **Morticia**

That's that. I believe we are ready. But please, make sure to feed yourself in your own time.

 _Morticia sits back in her chair, waiting for Gomez to begin. Morticia thinks on it more, getting sentimental. All she can do is watch him. Gomez is just a little confused._

 **Gomez**

You're not eating anything!

 **Morticia**

I'm watching you, dear.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, cara mia! We haven't eaten together _like this_ in months!

 **Morticia**

Oh, I suppose I'm just nervous watching you. We've both so longed for a night like this. But you're right. I ought to eat. I _am_ famished after that drive.

 _Morticia takes some of her salad, getting ready to eat. Now, Gomez feels ready to start. He raises his eyebrow weakly again._

 **Gomez**

Shall we?

 **Morticia**

Dear Gomez. Of course we shall.

 _Gomez makes his first attempt to take a spoon of the bowl of soft food waiting for him. He painstakingly moves his wrists the tiniest bit downwards, aiming the left spoon for the mixture. After four or five seconds of intense concentration, the spoon makes contact, and Gomez then focuses on now moving his wrist across the top enough to get a substantial amount of the liquefied food on his spoon. It takes him several seconds to focus, and several more seconds of forcing his wrist forward, millimetre by millimetre, to get enough food on his spoon to be satisfied._

 _He then begins the task of lifting his wrist out of the mixture, and inching his hand back towards his mouth. This whole process, just to take one spoonful, is laborious, but Gomez is determined. It takes him almost thirty seconds to lift his hand back to its original position and to start moving his wrist back towards his open mouth. About a minute and a half after he started, Gomez finally ingests the first spoonful, and after just a second – maybe two – he swallows. Right as Gomez takes the spoonful, Morticia takes the first bite of her salad. She takes the pocket square from Gomez's pocket and uses it to dab some small beads of sweat from his forehead._

 _Morticia kisses his forehead after she wipes the sweat away, so indescribably proud of him._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _Gomez grins shyly._

 **Morticia**

Brilliant, darling. Absolutely brilliant.

 **Gomez**

Angel. I would still be a dribbling vegetable at rest were it not for your caring spirit!

 _Morticia is getting very sentimental now._

 **Morticia**

You are my life's brightest light.

 **Gomez**

And you, my own.

 **Morticia**

What ever would have become of me had I not met you?

 **Gomez**

I believe we were both blessed by unparalleled good fortune, cara mia.

 _Gomez raises his eyebrow again, cheekily. He's getting remarkably good at it. He also cocks his head a little bit, doing everything he can to emote using his head and face but not his voice._

 **Gomez**

Our guardian spirits must _really like_ us.

 **Morticia**

You _are_ a darling.

 _Gomez gets completely distracted from what he's meant to be doing, now entirely devoted to whispering sweet nothings to his wife. He's under her spell, and she's under his._

 **Gomez**

Those beautiful words… they set my blood afire!

 **Morticia**

Later, Gomez. Food first, remember?

 _Gomez nods, yet again remembering where he is and what the task at hand is._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes! Sorry, my love. I got carried away.

 **Morticia**

Don't worry, dear. You're apt to be a bit distracted.

 _Gomez takes a moment, and then gets ready to feed himself the next spoon. When he's ready, he steels himself and begins._

 **Gomez**

Better give it another go!

 _He smiles at his wife, who nods, a small smile still on her face._

 **Morticia**

In your own time, my sweet.

 _Gomez begins the laborious process of taking another spoonful of the meal. It takes him about the same amount of time as before to manoeuvre his wrist back down into the bowl and take a spoon. He again brings his hand and wrist back up to his mouth, and after another long and tense moment of Morticia watching him to ensure he doesn't choke, he ingests the spoonful and swallows soon after. Morticia sighs with relief when Gomez manages it yet again, and dabs any sweat from his forehead._

 _Gomez seems bashful, a little embarrassed to be complimented on being good at something that's such a commonplace human activity, but accepts it nonetheless, trying to make a bit of a joke out of it._

 **Gomez**

Not bad!

 **Morticia**

Darling, you're so diligent. Are you feeling at all tired?

 _Gomez shakes his head, not too tired yet._

 **Gomez**

Certainly not, querida! In fact, I believe it's time for another helping!

 _Gomez yet again repeats the same actions as before, feeding himself another spoonful. Each spoonful takes an agonizingly long time for Morticia's liking, but Gomez always comes through and manages to feed himself._

 _Gomez has now eaten about half the bowl, and it's roughly thirty minutes later. It's clear to Morticia that Gomez is now completely tired. She's dabbing sweat off his forehead constantly. In addition, he's getting too tired to swallow his saliva, so she's having to dab away the odd bit of drool as well. Gomez himself also knows that he's too tired to continue. He has no strength to even keep his mouth closed – which shows how hugely tired this has made him. Morticia knows it's time to stop._

 **Morticia**

Darling, you have been magnificent.

 _Gomez smiles with his mouth open._

 **Gomez**

Gracias, cara mia, gracias.

 **Morticia**

But Gomez, dear, take a look at yourself.

 _Morticia takes out her makeup compact and shows Gomez his reflection in the mirror. He can see himself, forehead damp with sweat, mouth open and the tiniest speck of drool forming at the side of it. Gomez sees himself and immediately knows it's time to stop, even though he wants more than anything to be strong enough to continue. Still, this has been the most he's ever managed to feed himself in one sitting – he finished about half of a meal completely on his own. This is a huge step._

 **Morticia**

You're far too tired to continue. But oh, you have been spectacular. Even the most masterful have their limits.

 _Gomez nods, very weakly._

 **Gomez**

Hear, hear.

 **Morticia**

Let me get you out of that ridiculous thing for now, dear.

 _Morticia gets up and moves over to Gomez, gently taking the spoon attachments off of Gomez's hands. Then, she moves the bowl of food back to the table, and detaches the tray, folding it back up and placing it back in the bag at the back of Gomez's wheelchair. Finally, she unlocks the stand and slides it out of the way so that it's no longer behind Gomez._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Tish. You do everything for me.

 **Morticia**

It is an honour, darling.

 _The two of them smile at each other as Morticia sits back down._

 **Morticia**

Do you want me to feed you the rest, Gomez?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

No thank you, cara. I believe it's time for dessert!

 _Morticia grins coyly._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear?

 **Gomez**

Yes?

 **Morticia**

May I feed you dessert? It's so romantic.

 _Gomez mirrors his wife's coy smile, suddenly feeling remarkably romantic too._

 **Gomez**

Sounds enchanting, cara mia.

 _Before heading up to find a waiter she can place a dessert order with, Morticia grins wickedly. Gomez is so drawn in that he can do nothing but copy the wicked grin, the two of them unable to wipe the smiles from their faces._

 **Morticia**

But first…

 _Morticia leans in, and kisses Gomez on the lips. This triggers a little burst of energy in Gomez, who closes his mouth enough to kiss Morticia back. The two of them kiss for what is probably an obscenely long time. Finally, Morticia leans back just enough for Gomez to see her face._

 **Gomez**

Tish… you are beguiling.

 **Morticia**

As are you, my angel. I just couldn't resist.

 _The two of them go back to kissing, thoughts of dessert, for now, sidelined, as the two of them embrace the moment of togetherness and intimacy in their little corner of the restaurant, away from everyone else. Dessert will come when they decide it will._


	53. Day 183

**_AN:_** _Oh my, this one turned out a little… s e x y. PG-13? Okay maybe not **that** sexy but still. Hope that that doesn't put any of y'all off. Anywho, enjoy!_

* * *

 _Doctors Harvey and Arendash sit in the living room with Gomez and Morticia. Both doctors sit in front of Gomez, who's laying a little bit back in his powerchair. Morticia is sitting next to him, just observing the doctors, who are conducting tongue physiotherapy. The small amount of movement Gomez has in his tongue is being pushed and pushed in order to get him to be able to speak audibly once again. Gomez is being put through the ringer on this occasion. Harvey and Arendash ask too much of him on occasion, trying to get him to push himself beyond his means. With every range of motion exercise, they push him to do more, go bigger, try harder. Morticia is sitting, a small worry growing larger as Gomez tries and only sometimes succeeds at what they ask him to do. Morticia holds her husband's shoulder and is ready with a handkerchief to dab away sweat or drool if it begins to fall. She is not feeling especially happy with the doctors' conduct today but hasn't decided yet to ask them to tone it down._

 _Gomez finally finishes another range of motion repetition, and closes his eyes, clearly exhausted._

 **Harvey**

Once more! No time to rest now!

 **Arendash**

You'll thank us later.

 _Morticia sighs, and squeezes her husband's hand. He's so tired that he doesn't even have the strength to reciprocate. She looks at the doctors._

 **Morticia**

Please, doctors. I think he's done quite enough for today.

 **Harvey**

No! This is when therapy is at its most effective. Haven't you ever worked out?

 **Arendash**

When it hurts is when you see the most success! When you're pushing your limits, you know?

 **Morticia**

How vulgar. An Addams doesn't need exercise.

 **Harvey**

Well, maybe you don't – and maybe Mr Addams doesn't even need it either – but I can't say I agree with that after having met your uncle.

 _Morticia seems scandalized._

 **Morticia**

Doctor Harvey, Uncle Fester may be heavily built, but I assure you, he has a training regiment befitting of both an astronaut and a member of our peace corps!

 _Harvey doesn't look convinced. He gives Arendash a look, and decides to drop it._

 **Harvey**

Perhaps we ought to ask Mr Addams if he'd like to continue.

 **Morticia**

Very well. Ask away. Though, Gomez, darling – don't feel an ounce of pressure to continue if you don't feel ready to. You mustn't allow them to push you beyond your capabilities.

 _Harvey rolls his eyes, but nobody sees him do so. Gomez finally opens his eyes and looks at Morticia as she speaks to him. Finally, he looks back at his computer to respond to her._

 **Gomez**

What do you say we try just one more?

 _Morticia smiles, impressed by Gomez's perseverance._

 **Morticia**

Go right ahead, dear. But this _is_ your own decision, yes?

 _Gomez raises his eyebrows, a little better able to do this particular movement by the day._

 **Morticia**

You don't feel any pressure to perform for the doctors, do you?

 _Gomez weakly nods._

 **Gomez**

Why, of course not!

 _Morticia is still worried that Gomez is pushing himself beyond his limits, but of course, she will be there for him when he crashes and burns. She readies the handkerchief and looks at the doctors._

 **Morticia**

I suppose his mind can't be changed, doctors.

 **Arendash**

Excellent! Now, Gomez, let's do another range of motion repetition like before!

 **Gomez**

What a challenge!

 **Harvey**

Exactly.

 **Arendash**

It _will_ be challenging, but this is where we see the best results!

 _Gomez nods, shooting everybody a weak smile to hide his trepidation. Truth is, Gomez doesn't know if he's able for another full range of motion repetition, but just desperately wants to be better and do better, even if it means exhausting himself beyond his means. This of course is reckless, as such a huge amount of pushing himself beyond his limits will result in him being more tired for longer afterwards, and maybe even out of commission for further physiotherapy. Still, Gomez is listening to his heart and not his head._

 **Harvey**

Alright, Mr Addams, go right ahead.

 _Gomez begins the range of motion exercise again. It's clear to everyone that he's absolutely exhausted from the get-go, but he powers through it as best he can. He moves his tongue as much as he possibly can in all the prescribed directions, pushing himself almost dangerously. He begins sweating and drooling almost immediately, so unbelievably concentrated (a rarity for Gomez) on the task at hand that he has neither the time nor the energy to focus on swallowing his saliva. Doing two tasks at once has never been Gomez's strong suit, but even moreso when he's tired._

 _Morticia seems concerned, and immediately starts dabbing at her husband's forehead with the handkerchief, getting rid of the sweat._

 **Morticia**

In your own time, darling, don't strain yourself.

 _Gomez just looks kind of helpless as he keeps going, almost in a stupor, trying to make his tongue do things it can't really do yet._

 **Harvey**

Keep it up, Mr Addams, you're doing great.

 _But Gomez doesn't even hear. He's so focused that all he can think about is that every repetition brings him closer to being able to speak audibly again and not rely on the computer. He opens his eyes and looks at Morticia, straining himself to the point of near tears._

 _Morticia shakes her head when the two of them lock eyes. She gets in front of the two doctors, places her hands on his shoulders, and squeezes him gently, trying to calm him down._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling, stop for a moment.

 _Relieved and also disappointed that he wasn't able for another go, Gomez stops and lets his tongue rest. As per when he is tired, he can't even close his mouth at this point, as it takes too much concentration and effort. Morticia leans in and kisses his forehead, embracing him gently for a few moments, trying to keep him calm and soothed._

 _Then, she turns around and looks, stone-faced, at the doctors._

 **Morticia**

Do the two of you _really_ think that _this_ is appropriate?

 _Both doctors nod._

 **Arendash**

If we don't push him, we won't see results, Mrs Addams! It's as simple as that.

 **Morticia**

Can't you see how tired he is?

 **Harvey**

I can, but the whole point of this physio is to get his faculties back as quickly as humanly possible, and this is how that's done – intensive therapy!

 **Morticia**

Without regard for when your client hits the proverbial wall?

 _Harvey shrugs._

 **Harvey**

Your husband has been doing tremendously well, Mrs Addams. We're just pushing him because we know he'll get better quicker!

 **Morticia**

Look at him, Dr Harvey. There is a man who is so exhausted that he cannot even muster the strength to close his mouth. I do not believe this same man is capable of another strenuous range of motion exercise, as noble an undertaking he believes it to be.

 _Morticia moves over to the table, and takes the suction machine off of it. She returns to the trio in the middle of the room, turns it on, and suctions all the saliva out of her husband's mouth. This is the first time in a long time that his drooling has been so bad that she's needed to use the machine – but it's a clear indication of how unbelievably tired the physiotherapy made him. Gomez closes his eyes when she places the machine in his mouth, a little uncomfortable by the feeling of the machine in his mouth, which he's no longer used to. What has him more uncomfortable, however, is how he's feeling like a total fool for not listening to his body and not listening to common sense. And now Morticia is worried about him. He feels very guilty._

 **Morticia**

Now, dear. I believe we're done for the day. You've _far_ exceeded what these doctors have asked of you.

 _Gomez finally opens his eyes and starts composing a message on his computer. He doesn't have the strength to compose very long ones._

 **Gomez**

I've been unreasonable.

 **Morticia**

Of course you haven't, darling, you're just trying your best.

 _Arendash and Harvey seem supremely awkward, now with no clue what they're still there for._

 **Arendash**

So, should we just… go on break, then?

 **Morticia**

If you wish. Though remember – Lurch will be waiting for you in the master bedroom in approximately an hour's time. My husband needs a bed bath and Lurch has kindly volunteered to assist you.

 **Gomez**

Heart of gold, that lad.

 **Morticia**

Indeed. You know, I often feel his kindness is wasted on merely us alone. Perhaps he ought to spread his kindness via the internet.

 _Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

Capital idea!

 **Morticia**

Perhaps he could film himself giving life advice? He always gives such profound wisdom to Wednesday and Pugsley.

 **Gomez**

Say, what about YouTube?

 _Morticia raises an eyebrow, completely unsure as to what YouTube is and why Gomez has seemingly randomly mentioned it._

 **Morticia**

You have far too many tubes sustaining you already, darling. I can't imagine why you'd bring up another!

 _Gomez smiles at Morticia's internet cluelessness, as if he's much better himself (he's not)._

 **Gomez**

Querida mia, it's a website!

 **Morticia**

Oh. Would it do Lurch much good?

 **Gomez**

Given these circumstances, I've had an inexcusable amount of time to marinate in YouTube content! It's Lurch to a tee!

 _Impatiently waiting to be dismissed, Harvey clears his throat. Both Gomez and Morticia look at him._

 **Harvey**

So, can we go?

 _Morticia has little patience for either doctor today. She sighs._

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes. You are both excused.

 _Both doctors rise, and leave the room silently, leaving Morticia alone with Gomez. Now they're gone, Gomez looks at Morticia a bit regretfully._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia. It tears at my heart to have you worried like that.

 _Morticia shakes her head, pushing Gomez's wheelchair next to her sun chair. She sits in the sun chair and takes her husband's hand._

 **Morticia**

Darling… you're so noble.

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 _Gomez absorbs the words a bit more, and changes his mind. He certainly doesn't feel very noble right now._

 **Gomez**

I am?

 _Morticia smiles, charmed by his cute attention span._

 **Morticia**

Of course, my darling. Pushing yourself beyond your limits in order to recover quicker. But you know you'll only tire yourself out further?

 _Gomez nods weakly, a little bit of strength returning._

 **Gomez**

I was so sure I had one more repetition left in me.

 _Morticia squeezes his hand._

 **Morticia**

Darling… you and I both know that you are just saying that to avoid making me upset. You're exhausted.

 _Gomez concedes, about to respond to her, but Morticia speaks again before he can._

 **Morticia**

If I see you composing another long sentence, darling, I will not be happy. You need to rest.

 _Gomez concedes._

 **Gomez**

You're right.

 **Morticia**

That's better, dear. You have such conviction, such drive, such passion – sometimes to your detriment.

 _She leans over and kisses his head._

 **Morticia**

 _Bubeleh…_

 _Morticia instinctually leans in, gently eases her husband's mouth closed, and kisses him. After a long, very loving and understanding kiss, Morticia moves away and then immediately moves back in again for another kiss. She and he kiss multiple times, Morticia's hand gently resting under Gomez's chin. Gomez tries not to reciprocate too much, because he doesn't want to tire himself out even more, but he's sometimes too pulled in by Morticia's allure to avoid kissing her back weakly._

 _Morticia is about to go in for the fifth kiss when the sound of the mail echoes out. Morticia turns around._

 **Morticia**

Mail's in!

 _She moves over to one of Thing's many boxes, and waits for him to emerge holding the mail. Indeed, after just a moment, Thing emerges holding a stack of envelopes. Morticia gratefully takes them._

 **Morticia / Gomez**

Thank you, Thing!

 _Morticia looks back at Gomez from across the room, tickled by them both saying thank you at the same time._

 _She then moves back over to Gomez, as Thing retreats back into his box, closing it as he goes. Morticia sits back beside Gomez again, and goes through the mail right in front of him so he can see. Most of the envelopes are addressed to him._

 **Morticia**

"Mr Gomez Addams… Mr Gomez Addams… Mr and Mrs Gomez Addams… Mr Gomez Addams…" dear, it seems they're all for you.

 **Gomez**

Ah – not all of them! One is for "Mrs Gomez Addams"!

 **Morticia**

What an alluring name. She is lucky to have it.

 _Whether Gomez and Morticia actually understand what "Mrs Gomez Addams" means, or if they think the letter was somehow mistakenly addressed to a woman with the same name as Gomez, I will leave up to you._

 **Morticia**

Shall we open one?

 **Gomez**

Certainly!

 _Morticia opens one of the envelopes. It's a "get well soon" card._

 **Morticia**

Ah, a card from one of your friends at the Zen Yogi society. Have a look, dear.

 _Morticia opens the card so that Gomez can read it. It is a get well soon message from one of the many members of the society, reading "Gomez – it's been months now. I know I've sent you cards before but we miss you. Even just come in for a visit, it doesn't matter if you can't do any Zen Yogi, it's boring without you checking stocks mid-session. Please get well soon – Harold."_

 _This seems to hearten Gomez, who smiles, and then closes his mouth, finally with enough energy restored for him to do so._

 **Gomez**

Ah, Harold. If I ever knew a sentimental old dog…

 **Morticia**

And how about this one, darling? It looks like another card.

 _Morticia opens another one, and indeed, it's another card. She opens it so that Gomez can read once again. The card says "Dear Gomez, please please please please get well soon, no one else in the society has a sense of humour. It's been months and my will to continue is being slowly worn away. The Grand Guru is a talented yogi but that's it, he's just so boring. It just hasn't been the same since you got sick, I miss playing impromptu games of croquet mid-session. Please get well soon or I will descend further into insanity. All the best, Vihaan."_

 _Morticia and Gomez look at each other, both extremely flattered and not at all jarred by Vihaan's bizarre message._

 **Morticia**

Isn't that thoughtful?

 **Gomez**

Superb penmanship.

 **Morticia**

I believe it's printed, dear.

 _Gomez examines the card again to see that the message is indeed printed._

 **Gomez**

Ah yes.

 **Morticia**

Such a kind sentiment.

 **Gomez**

I like his spirit!

 _Morticia opens the rest of the envelopes, showing Gomez that all of them appear to be from members of the Zen Yogi society._

 **Morticia**

Darling, I believe they all must have decided to write to you at once! Isn't that a charming coincidence?

 **Gomez**

I'm not sure it was an accident, querida mia.

 **Morticia**

You think they coordinated it?

 _Gomez seems kind of flattered. He grins in a bashful way, a bit flattered by their thinking of him._

 **Gomez**

I suppose so…

 _Gomez seems a little embarrassed to be fussed over by his friends, but nonetheless does appreciate the sentiment in a big way._

 **Morticia**

Well, why wouldn't they? Of course they would miss having such a darling man in their ranks.

 _Gomez is now intensely embarrassed but also flattered. He seems to go red before Morticia's eyes, which she finds adorable._

 **Morticia**

 _Gomez…_ you're blushing.

 _Gomez turns off his screen for a moment to see himself reflected back to him. Indeed, the reflection shows he's blushing, and he shakes his head somewhat weakly, another wide grin forming._

 **Gomez**

You've got me there.

 **Morticia**

It's a reflection of your nobility – your prowess – your brilliance, to be missed in such a way.

 _Still embarrassed, Gomez keeps trying to shake his head._

 **Gomez**

Very decent of them, but it wasn't necessary.

 **Morticia**

On the contrary, darling, I think it's very necessary. The world misses you – you ought to know how widely you are loved. You are _so_ loved.

 **Gomez**

Gracias, querida mia.

 _Morticia goes in to kiss Gomez again, and he reciprocates, stronger now, recovering from his strenuous physiotherapy session._

 **Morticia**

Thank goodness your mouth is no longer paralyzed, darling.

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow._

 **Morticia**

I simply couldn't bear the time spent not able to kiss you.

 _Gomez both feels terrible and flattered._

 **Gomez**

I felt so guilty, Tish, depriving you.

 **Morticia**

Depriving? You weren't depriving me.

 **Gomez**

Unable even to close my mouth… it drove me mad.

 **Morticia**

You wanted to be able to close it so badly, dear, I remember.

 **Gomez**

To shower you with kisses!

 **Morticia**

That wasn't your fault, darling. And you need not worry now, those days are behind us.

 _Gomez snaps out of it quicker than usual. He can't afford negativity at the moment, it does him absolutely no good whatsoever._

 **Gomez**

As always, cara mia, you are right.

 **Morticia**

It is sometimes a burden, dear.

 _Gomez smiles again, and slightly moves his head closer to her. She leans in and lets him kiss her._

 **Morticia**

Barely any movement in your body, and still the finest lover a woman could ask for.

 **Gomez**

There's no need for you to humour me, my love. I'm aware that I'm not quite my old self.

 _Morticia shakes her head, feeling sorry for him but not wanting him to feel inferior._

 **Morticia**

But I'm not humouring you, darling. You are gifted with more inherent knowledge of how to please a woman, that even in this paralyzed state, you give more than most able-bodied men ever give in a lifetime. And to be that woman… what would have become of me had I not met you?

 _Gomez is immensely flattered by this._

 **Gomez**

Querida… you are _enchanting._

 **Morticia**

You'll have _me_ blushing, darling.

 _Gomez grins wickedly._

 **Gomez**

What's that old saying? An eye for an eye!

 _Morticia shivers._

 **Morticia**

Such a vivid expression.

 _Gomez watches, the wicked grin still plastered on his face as he watches his wife start to blush._

 **Gomez**

You're going a beautiful shade of red.

 _Morticia smiles lovingly at her husband, who is being effortlessly charming, unable to hide the fact that she's a little bit excited._

 **Morticia**

Do you like it?

 **Gomez**

Adore it.

 **Morticia**

You're a little red yourself, dear. Must be the blood, rushing to our faces.

 _Gomez shivers now, so enchanted by her that it's beyond description._

 **Gomez**

Darling, those beautiful words ripple from your lips…

 **Morticia**

Oh, my fiery Castilian… _j'adore…_

 _They lean in to each other again and start kissing more and more intensely, before Morticia gets up, moves in front of Gomez, and awkwardly leans down so Gomez doesn't have to lean his head to one side to kiss her._

 **Gomez**

Your French words… they enflame me.

 **Morticia**

Perhaps _I_ should give you the bed bath myself, _bubeleh…_

 _Gomez likes bed baths exponentially more when they're given to him by Morticia. The fire in his eyes only builds, completely on board with this idea._

 _Upon hearing her call him "bubeleh", Gomez shivers again._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia… the very thought sets my blood aflame!

 **Morticia**

Just the two of us, alone, in our room… you in need of your daily cleaning…

 _Morticia has a wicked glint in her eye too._

 **Morticia**

The first thing we'll do is get you undressed…

 _Gomez is picturing all the possibilities, completely and irrevocably engulfed in passion. He wants to be able to stand up, take her in his arms, and kiss her. Instead, he's confined to the chair and itching to get out of it._

 **Gomez**

I can't stand it! I must kiss you! Cuddle you! Adore you!

 _Morticia strokes her husband's hair._

 **Morticia**

Poor Gomez… you have shown such potent inner strength, such… _savoir-faire._

 _Morticia is purposefully being playful and sexy with Gomez right now, the two of them enjoying their sensual little back-and-forth. Gomez is, of course, enraptured by her speaking French, and closes his eyes to deal with the passion._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish…_ that French. You know what it does to me.

 **Morticia**

Oh, I do, darling.

 **Gomez**

Drives me _wild…_

 **Morticia**

My wild, passionate Latin lover.

 _Morticia leans back in, and kisses him on the forehead, then between the eyes, then on the nose, then finally down to his mouth. She strokes his hair as she does so, and with her other hand, massages his hand gently._

 _Gomez is so unable to control himself in this moment that he forgets literally everything about the last few months and tries to speak with his own voice, to declare his love. It's almost involuntary. He goes back to what he'd usually do when being this passionate with his wife, forgetting he can't talk. On the next ventilator breath (he doesn't even think of lining up his speech with the ventilator anymore, he's already so used to it now that he does it automatically) he goes to whisper "cara mia" with his speaking voice, really without thinking at all._

 _However, the results are surprising. The work he's been doing over the weeks with his tongue is slowly starting to show a payoff. Gomez manages to move his tongue better than ever before. As a result, he moves his tongue enough to audibly change the sound he's making. The noise he makes is so slurred and sounds so abstractly like the words "cara mia" that literally no one else on planet Earth but Morticia would ever be able to identify them out of the slurred groan noise that you or I would hear. However, there's no doubt that the sound does change a few times. It is enough for Morticia to stop entirely in her tracks. Gomez, as per usual, doesn't really notice anything other than the fact that he tried to speak but failed somewhat – he doesn't even take note of how much improved that sound was compared to other sounds he's been able to make._

 **Gomez**

Oh, that's right. I forgot. I can't talk.

 _Morticia is just stunned by what she's heard. She takes a step back and just stares for a moment. Gomez still doesn't quite know what's wrong._

 **Gomez**

What happened? Something wrong?

 **Morticia**

Gomez…

 **Gomez**

Yes, querida?

 **Morticia**

Darling… did you just say "cara mia"?

 **Gomez**

Tried to. Just another undignified groan, I'm afraid.

 **Morticia**

No, Gomez. I heard it.

 _Gomez now stops in his tracks too, taking in what Morticia is saying._

 **Gomez**

You did?

 **Morticia**

I could hear it in your voice! Oh, those captivating words… my angel, try it again!

 _Gomez nods, a rush of adrenaline hitting him almost immediately._

 _On his next breath, Gomez tries it again, this time, concentrating. Indeed, the concentration allows Gomez to replicate the same sound he did before, an extremely slurred and abstract version of sounds that somewhat resemble the phrase "cara mia" to the very trained ear. Luckily, Morticia is the one human who possesses that very trained ear. Morticia actually tears up as soon as she hears him say it again. She has the immediate impulse to just hug him. She hugs him tight and hard, but still as gently as she can. When she finally pulls out of the hug, she's properly crying. Gomez still just looks a bit stunned and scarcely able to believe it._

 **Morticia**

Gomez… you beautiful, wonderful, heroic man…

 **Gomez**

For a minute there, I thought I was imagining things.

 **Morticia**

You are unparalleled, my angel. Simply unparalleled. I am the most fortunate woman on this planet. Indeed, on any planet!

 _Gomez grins massively, completely happy, so in love that it's almost bursting out of him._

 **Gomez**

You're so thoughtful, querida.

 **Morticia**

Oh, that wonderful glint in your eye… you are the brightest light in a life littered with blessings.

 _Morticia strokes his face._

 **Gomez**

Who would have thought I'd make such a clear sound, just like that? No one!

 _Morticia raises an eyebrow and cocks her head a bit._

 **Morticia**

 _I_ knew you had it in you.

 _Gomez shivers, completely on a high after what's just happened._

 **Gomez**

 _Cara…_

 **Morticia**

Say it aloud again, darling. Just once more.

 _Gomez nods, grinning, but then trying to concentrate. He takes a moment, and then does his absolute utmost best to replicate the sound a third time. Indeed, he manages it, and this causes both of their hearts to leap with excitement as the sound comes from his mouth. Morticia kisses his forehead, both of them still reeling._

 **Morticia**

You speak those words with such poise and dignity, Gomez.

 _Gomez is feeling immensely pleased with himself._

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

Darling, let's go upstairs. How would that bed bath suit you right now?

 **Gomez**

Well, it's been a tiring day…

 **Morticia**

All the more reason for me to attend to all your washing, grooming, and cleaning needs, my angel…

 _Morticia keeps stroking Gomez's cheek._

 **Morticia**

…and perhaps an opportunity to perform a massage.

 **Gomez**

You have such a delicate touch, my dear.

 **Morticia**

All the better to calm and relax you with. Oh, my dear, sweet, noble love - you have worked so admirably hard today.

 **Gomez**

It would be beguiling.

 **Morticia**

Then you shall be brought upstairs, post-haste.

 **Gomez**

Thank you, my love.

 _Morticia just looks at Gomez and gets emotional._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez. You're going to make me cry.

 **Gomez**

 _Cara mia_ … you are the soul of compassion and understanding.

 _Morticia finally gets back up, and begins pushing Gomez towards the hoist on the stairs, ready to bring him back to bed for a sensual bed bath/massage that is sounding less and less clinical and more and more intimate by the second. When they finally reach the stairs, Morticia rings the noose and waits for Lurch to arrive so he can transfer Gomez into the hoist. Gomez looks at Morticia, suddenly overcome by positivity and self-confidence._

 **Gomez**

Think no more about my infirmity, my dear! The real Gomez Addams shall soon be back!

 _Morticia smiles down at her husband, letting him have this moment._

 **Morticia**

My darling… he never left.

 _Gomez shivers at her words – she always says the right thing._

 **Gomez**

Such wisdom, Tish! Drives me wild!

 _Lurch appears._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Yes, Lurch, dear. Bring Mr Addams upstairs, please.

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 _As Lurch gets ready to transfer Gomez out of his chair, Gomez sneaks in one last message on the eyegaze computer before Lurch disconnects its stand from the wheelchair. Gomez grins in his manic yet extremely joyful signature way as the words play out, looking pleased as punch._

 **Gomez**

Shall we?

 _Morticia just smiles back, enchanted by her husband's ever-increasing abilities._

 **Morticia**

Why, of course… _bubeleh._

 _Gomez's eyes go wide as Lurch lifts him out of his wheelchair and into the hoist. Morticia smiles devilishly as Lurch lifts up Gomez's head, trying to prevent it from flopping over. As soon as Gomez sees Morticia's devilish grin, he grins back – the moment they're alone in that room, he will be doing everything he can to shower Morticia in affection because of that one, beautiful word. Morticia continues the devilish grin as she pushes Gomez's powerchair over to the dumbwaiter, ready to bring it upstairs, completely blissful, and completely and utterly overrun with passion._


	54. Day 188 (Part 1)

**_AN:_** _I wish I didn't have to separate everything into two part these days, but I'm totally swamped by stuff at the moment! Hope you guys enjoy it, anyway, sorry I've been so inconsistent updating! I want to keep being consistent but I've just gotten about 5 new jobs and I'm completely overwhelmed by them. I still have loads of ideas but as per usual I am completely open to requests as to what could happen in Morticia and Gomez's lives/with Gomez's condition next, (good or bad, ooooOOOOoooo)._

* * *

 _Morticia and Gomez are in the back of a rented, wheelchair accessible van. Lurch is driving them. Gomez has a new outfit on, that Morticia chose for him to wear on their vacation to Death Valley in a few months. They are picking up Wednesday and Pugsley from school, and Morticia wants to surprise the kids, especially Pugsley, who hasn't been able to stop talking about the trip._

 _The outfit consists of a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. The Hawaiian shirt has a rather dour, grey and overcast beach scene on it, and the sea has an imposing tentacle rising out of it, casting further darkness on the beach. The shorts are a very soft and comfortable looking, but are black, despite the hot weather that will inevitably await them. Gomez has always preferred high black boots, but the pair Morticia has chosen for him is slightly more summery, ending just at his ankle instead, giving his foot about an inch or two more to breathe._

 _Morticia thinks Gomez looks rather amusing in this new outfit, and Gomez loves it. He will occasionally turn off his computer screen to see himself in the reflection, and be unable to wipe a cheesy grin off his face. In the back of the van, his chair is locked into place. Morticia sits beside him, holding his hand. His other hand is curled around a folded up towel, something Morticia is trying to have him constantly doing in order to get him more and more used to gripping things, even if he can't lift them or hold them yet._

 _Morticia rests her head on her husband's shoulder and watches his computer screen. He is searching to buy another Hawaiian shirt with dreary scenery, since he's such a fan of the one he's currently dressed in._

 **Morticia**

Are you buying another one, darling?

 _Gomez just makes a noise in response. Morticia knows this means yes. She can see the proof on the screen, after all. She's just happy that her husband is trying to make sounds as much as he possibly can, even if she can't discern any words from them. She sighs as Gomez adds another Hawaiian style shirt (showing a sunset over a graveyard with skeletal hands rising from the dirt) to his cart._

 **Morticia**

You do look enchanting in them.

 _Morticia watches as Gomez zooms in on the screen to show her the pattern on the new shirt more clearly._

 **Morticia**

Oh, that pattern is delightful.

 **Gomez**

A bit saccharine, but lovely.

 _Morticia sighs dreamily and rests her head on her husband's shoulder again, leaning into him even more._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday and Pugsley will be thrilled to see you.

 _Gomez makes some kind of "uh-huh" sound. It doesn't sound exactly like that, especially not like he's saying the words, but the intonation, however slurred and weak, is there._

 **Morticia**

You sound so like yourself, Gomez. It's been a small eternity, but there's no denying it any longer. I hear _you!_

 **Gomez**

You do?

 **Morticia**

Of course, dear! That darling voice of yours that all of us have missed so dearly.

 **Gomez**

But I'm not saying anything!

 **Morticia**

Gomez, I'm surprised. You don't need to speak words for us to recognize your voice! I have the utmost confidence that I could pick out your snoring from a lineup!

 _Gomez smiles somewhat cheesily again, a little embarrassed._

 **Gomez**

Darling, you think of the loveliest things to say.

 _Morticia playfully boops his nose, coy._

 **Morticia**

You make it easy to think of them.

 _Gomez makes another noise, just a groan. Whatever he was trying to say, nobody can understand it. Still, Morticia is enchanted by his using his own voice._

 **Morticia**

You sound so becoming, dear.

 _Gomez is still smiling, bashful._

 **Gomez**

Now, now. There's no need for flattery!

 **Morticia**

There may not be a need for it, darling, but you deserve to be flattered!

 _Gomez just smiles, making another groaning noise. Every time he does this, he opens his mouth and makes a big effort to move his mouth and tongue to actually say words. 9 times out of 10, Morticia can't understand the thing he was trying to say. Nothing he ever tries to say is a very long phrase, usually just a word or two. She assumes the messages he uses his computer to convey are the longer versions of the snippets of words he attempts to say out loud. She assumes he attempts an important word or two using his mouth, and then types the full message on his computer so she can understand what he wants to convey to her._

 **Gomez**

You may be right.

 _Morticia smiles and squeezes his hand. Gomez squeezes back. Then, with her other hand, Morticia feels his forehead to make sure he's not overheating or too cold._

 **Morticia**

Hm. You don't feel nice and clammy, the way you like it. Are you feeling alright, dear? Are you comfortable?

 **Gomez**

Right as rain!

 **Morticia**

Good. The children will be so happy to see you at the school gates.

 _Gomez makes a kind of "aaahh" sound._

 **Gomez**

Ah, I can't wait to see the little rascals!

 **Morticia**

Their faces will light up at the sight of their noble father!

 _Gomez smiles, grateful for how supportive his wife is._

 **Morticia**

What do you say, Lurch? Won't the children be simply overjoyed to see their father greeting them?

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 _Morticia grins triumphantly._

 **Morticia**

There you have it.

 _As Morticia grins coyly, Gomez grins wickedly. He shivers, overcome by his love for her._

 _As he does this, they pull up to the school gates, and grind to halt very abruptly. Luckily Morticia is strapped in and Gomez's wheelchair is locked in place._

 **Lurch**

We're here.

 **Morticia**

Thank you, Lurch!

 **Gomez**

That Lurch. Impeccable driver!

 **Lurch**

Thank you, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

And, unafraid of praise! I like your spirit, old man!

 _Lurch groans._

 _Lurch opens van door and gets out. He opens the two doors on the back. Morticia unlocks Gomez's wheelchair from its position, and finally lets go of his hand as she does so. Gomez uses what hand movement he has to place his hand on the joystick. Once Morticia unlocks the chair, Gomez reverses it a little. Lurch pulls a lever that causes a ramp to unload from the back of the van._

 **Morticia**

Not yet, dear.

 _Gomez spins his chair around so he can see when the ramp will be ready. As they wait, Morticia places her hand on his shoulder. Gomez looks up at Morticia, looking bright-eyed and in a decidedly good mood. Morticia's heart does melt a little, but she has no time to dwell on it as the ramp finishes unloading and clicks into its final position._

 **Gomez**

Come, cara mia!

 _The noise of Gomez's computerized voice snaps Morticia back to reality and she follows him as he drives himself down the ramp and onto the pavement._

 _Morticia just watches her husband driving himself around independently, no longer needing to be wheeled around by another person. She hears him give a thankful grunt to Lurch who grunts back. Her heart really is so full._

 _Gomez spins his chair back around to face Morticia. She descends the ramp too, and approaches her husband, gently taking his other hand off of the curled up towel, handing the towel to Lurch with a quick "thank you, dear", and taking her husband's hand in hers._

 _The two of them make their way towards the school gates, waiting eagerly to see the children. Meanwhile, Lurch waits by the van for when Morticia and Gomez return._

 _As Morticia and Gomez approach, they notice the Swensons also waiting for Clementine. The Swensons take one look at the Addams, and make a very conscious choice to ignore them completely. Unfettered, Morticia and Gomez continue down the path to the school gates to some less judgmental and deluded parents._

 _As they arrive, the principal, Mr Jennings, exits the building, signalling that the school day has ended and that it's time for everyone to go home. Morticia locks eyes with Mr Jennings, who also then immediately decides to ignore them._

 _Morticia and Gomez are then approached by a familiar set of faces, the parents of one of Pugsley's friends – neither of whom have seen Gomez since before he got sick (but who have heard of what happened from their son, who tell them what Pusgley shares with them)._

 **Mrs Carey**

Mr and Mrs Addams! What a surprise!

 **Gomez**

Ah, Mrs Carey! So good to see you again!

 **Mrs** **Carey**

Mr Addams…

 **Gomez**

Allow me to reintroduce myself! Gomez Addams, at your service!

 **Mrs** **Carey**

You're Pugsley's father, yes?

 **Gomez**

Ah, you see the resemblance!

 **Mrs** **Carey**

From what my son has told me about what happened to his friend Pugsley's father, _this_ … seems about right.

 **Morticia**

And what did my son tell you about my husband?

 **Mrs** **Carey**

That you got sick and it did… _this_ … to you. I think the last time I saw you was at the PTA meeting last year. You seemed fine then.

 **Morticia**

That _was_ before all of this, yes. Well, it is good to be reacquainted with you.

 _Gomez and Morticia continue going towards the school, waiting for their son, leaving the parents behind. They head down the path together, letting the dust from that brief conversation settle before commenting on it. When they're out of range enough, Gomez begins._

 **Gomez**

Tish, that irked me.

 **Morticia**

Was it Mrs Carey?

 **Gomez**

Indeed, my dear.

 **Morticia**

What's troubling you?

 **Gomez**

I understand why, of course, but I wish they wouldn't bother me about being ill.

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling, it must be incredibly vexing to be constantly grilled about your condition.

 **Gomez**

They're not seeing the real me, Tish! Merely… the stock disabled legume of their imaginations!

 **Morticia**

Of course they're not. They're content just to ogle from the peanut gallery. But _I_ know you're so much more than that.

 _Gomez shakes his head, disapprovingly, as he thinks more about it._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, I'm not being unreasonable, am I?

 **Morticia**

Not in the slightest, my sweet.

 **Gomez**

I suppose so. It's true I don't mind being the centre of attention - just not like this.

 **Morticia**

I know, darling. I shan't let them get to you. Think of our trip!

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

Yes, dear. Of course! This is no time for negativity! That tantalizing desert landscape! The hot sun, beating down upon our scalps!

 _Gomez groans. Morticia smiles._

 **Morticia**

You're so poetic, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

I learned it all from you, querida mia! Before we met, I had all the lyricism of an abacus!

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 _Some of Pugsley's friends leaves the school to go home. Pugsley and Wednesday still haven't left the school building yet._

 **Morticia**

There's some of Pugsley's friends now.

 _Another parent, Mrs Redmond, joins them._

 **Mrs** **Redmond**

Ah, Morticia and Gomez Addams. It truly has been a while, hasn't it?

 **Morticia**

Mrs Redmond! How do you do?

 _Mrs Redmond hugs Morticia._

 _Mrs Redmond looks at Gomez's hand. Morticia lifts up Gomez's hand and gestures for Mrs Redmond to take it and shake hands with Gomez, which she dutifully but awkwardly does. Gomez grins the whole time, hoping she doesn't bring his disability up or turn it into the sole focus of conversation. He doesn't know what he's about to be in for._

 **Mrs** **Redmond**

Mrs Addams, may I speak to you alone for a moment?

 **Morticia**

Why, of course! You don't mind, do you, dear?

 _Gomez grins at both of them. Mrs Redmond looks down at him politely._

 **Gomez**

Not in the slightest!

 **Morticia**

You can wait for the children, darling!

 **Gomez**

I shall be your dutiful watchman, my eagle eye fixed on the target at hand!

 **Morticia**

Oh, _darling,_ how _enchanting_. Which eye is the eagle's one?

 _Gomez grins like the cheesy dad he is._

 **Gomez**

Merely an expression, my dear, think nothing of it!

 _Morticia looks at Mrs Redmond._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my dear, sweet Gomez, and his expressions. We were just talking about what a poet he's become since we married.

 _Mrs Redmond looks a little weirded out, but nothing out of the ordinary._

 **Morticia**

In any case, you can drive yourself over to me if there's anything you need. Alright?

 **Gomez**

I shall seek you immediately!

 **Morticia**

Lovely. Let's speak over there, beneath that tree.

 _Morticia and Mrs Redmond saunter over to the tree to talk._

 _One of Pugsley's "friends", a rather tactless kid named Kyle, runs out of the school and up to Gomez, stopping in the middle of the path, eyes bright with intrigue._

 **Kyle**

You!

 **Gomez**

Hi.

 **Kyle**

You're the guy Pugsley always draws!

 **Gomez**

I should hope so, I'm his father!

 **Kyle**

I know! I recognized you right away!

 **Gomez**

Yes, I imagine you did. I'm rather unmistakable.

 **Kyle**

So are you gonna die?

 _Gomez is legitimately offended by the child's bluntness._

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, child!

 **Kyle**

Are you sick?

 **Gomez**

Not at all! Never felt better!

 **Kyle**

I don't get it. I was watching a movie with my friends, and there was a guy in the movie, in a wheelchair, like you, who couldn't talk except with a computer, like you, who had the same tube as you have coming out his neck, and then, when I asked my mom and dad what happened to the guy when the movie was over, they told me he died. So I said to my friend that Pugsley Addams's dad was like the guy in the movie and he said that then you were probably gonna die soon.

 _Gomez is scandalized and absolutely tired of this constant grilling from people of all ages. He just wants to live his life and be a dad!_

 **Gomez**

What utter tripe! All things considered, I'm in perfect health!

 **Kyle**

But my best friend said you were gonna die and he's 11!

 **Gomez**

Young man, you mustn't believe everything you hear. When _I_ was 11, I didn't know my left from my right! Come to think of it, I still don't!

 **Kyle**

But then I told my other friends that you were like the guy in the movie, and they all agreed you were a goner!

 _Gomez would be facepalming if he could right now. He's so eminently tired of this. He does his best to remind himself on a daily basis that he isn't burdening his family, but the world at large seems determined to change his mind on that._

 _Gomez looks sternly at the kid._

 **Gomez**

I need you to think on who you're going to believe, son. Idle gossip, or the solemn word of the man in question?

 **Kyle**

But then when we told Pugsley we were sorry you were gonna die, he started crying, so it has to be true, right?

 _Gomez is infuriated by the image of Pugsley being reduced to tears. A wave of anger washes over him and his entire outlook on the conversation changes on a dime._

 **Gomez**

I will warn you, young man. You are forbidden from mentioning my health to my son from now on, you hear?

 **Kyle**

But why, is it not true?

 **Gomez**

Young man, let's get one thing straight. It's true that I may appear sick to the untrained eye, but I, irrefutably, _categorically, undeniably_ , do _not_ have a terminal disease!

 **Kyle**

But Pugsley seemed so upset every time we asked!

 _Gomez abhors hearing this._

 **Gomez**

Choose your words carefully, child. Some of us don't have the luxury of being able to say the first thing that comes into our heads.

 **Kyle**

But why was Pugsley so upset then?

 **Gomez**

My son continues to brave through what has been nothing short of an agonizing ordeal, young man! He has witnessed his father become entirely incapacitated and endured it with such courage, such dignity, and such maturity! But Great Scott, how can you possibly expect him not to be upset when you ask such thoughtless questions? What boy, not to mention a boy whose father has lost the capacity for all independent movement, wants to be asked when his father is going to die?

 **Kyle**

I, uh… I…

 **Gomez**

You could be in _a lot_ of trouble, young man! I'm going to have to speak with your parents about this. This intimidation will not be tolerated under my watch! How long have you tormented him with this vile line of questioning?

 **Kyle**

Since two Tuesdays ago when the movie was on TV.

 _The fact that this has been going on for two weeks and Pugsley hasn't said anything puts Gomez in proper "stern dad" mode._

 **Gomez**

In that case, I'll be speaking with your parents immediately.

 _Gomez remembers that he has to know where and who they are in order to speak to them immediately._

 **Gomez**

Where are they?

 _Kyle points to them. Then, however, regretting his decision to point them out, stands on the spot, now terrified out of his mind, and sprints away. Gomez watches in disbelief, and turns his attention to the kids leaving the school again, seeing if he can see his son. He wants nothing more than to protect him in this moment._

 _After a few moments, Gomez finally sees Pugsley leaving school, looking quite tired. With Morticia still talking to the parent, Gomez wastes no time in driving his wheelchair closer. Pugsley catches his eye after a few seconds, and excitedly runs to Gomez._

 **Pugsley**

Father!

 _Pugsley reaches his father, steps up onto the wheelchair's footrest, and hugs Gomez. He doesn't hug as tightly as Wednesday, instead doing his best to be as gentle as he can while still giving a decent hug. Gomez makes a noise, trying to say Pugsley's name. Even though his speech is so slurred that anyone outside the family wouldn't be able to tell what Gomez is saying at all, Pugsley can understand his own name when he hears it, no matter how incoherent his father's speech is._

 **Pugsley**

Great job talking, father!

 _Pugsley hugs his father again, finally stepping back down and grabbing his father's hand._

 **Pugsley**

I missed you in school today!

 **Gomez**

And I missed you at home, my boy!

 **Pugsley**

Thank you, father. I like your outfit. I hope you're doing okay.

 **Gomez**

Doing just fine, son! Never better!

 **Pugsley**

Good.

 **Gomez**

Any reason for asking?

 **Pugsley**

No, no reason.

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow._

 **Gomez**

 _No?_

 **Pugsley**

Really! None!

 _Pugsley goes back to trying to hug his father, but Gomez sees through his son's efforts._

 _Gomez makes an "ah!" sound, trying to get Pugsley's attention again._

 **Gomez**

Not so fast. You and I need to have a little talk.

 **Pugsley**

We do?

 **Gomez**

That's right, son.

 **Pugsley**

Is it about something bad?

 **Gomez**

No, not bad. Just… difficult.

 **Pugsley**

Are you _really_ okay?

 _Gomez smiles sadly, almost laughing darkly at his son's disbelief, wanting nothing but to assuage his fears._

 **Gomez**

Son, I give you my word. I'm as well as can be!

 **Pugsley**

Okay, good. Am I in trouble?

 **Gomez**

Not in the slightest, my boy! Say, follow me, I need to speak with your mother for a moment.

 _Pugsley, still holding his father's hand, follows him as he drives himself back over to Morticia. Morticia turns around, still in conversation with Mrs Redmond, to see her husband and son._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, dear, it seems you've forgotten one!

 _Gomez laughs audibly, his laugh sounding more and more like an actual laugh with every passing he shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, cara mia! I simply want to ask if you could keep an eye out for little Wednesday. Pugsley and I are going to have a man-to-man talk over by the swing set.

 **Morticia**

Oh?

 **Gomez**

Not to fear, _querida mia!_ I have it all under control!

 _Morticia smiles, impressed by her husband's initiative, whatever it is he's doing. She likes to see him take care of things by himself, so she leaves him to it._

 **Morticia**

Very good, Gomez. Of course. You speak to Pugsley, and I'll watch out for Wednesday. We'll meet you by the swings when I find her – oh, she _will_ be thrilled to see you. Be careful, darling!

 **Gomez**

I shall, my dear! Onward, Pugsley, my boy!

 _Pugsley looks up and smiles, taking his father's hand. Morticia sighs, seeing her two favourite boys in the whole world together like this._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_

 _Gomez smiles at Morticia, and politely smiles at Mrs Redmond, before driving away with Pugsley to have this man-to-man chat, his heart still broken as he thinks about what his poor son must have endured._

 _(Continued in the next part!)_


	55. Day 188 (Part 2)

_**AN:**_ _Damn, they should have hired me to write "very special episodes" of TV shows. I think it's my hidden talent._

* * *

 _Gomez and Pugsley are still in motion, with Gomez driving a little head, leading them a bit off the main path. Once they're sure no one can listen in, the two of them begin their private conversation, still looking for a spot to stop. Gomez tries to remain as upbeat as he can._

 **Gomez**

Why, son! I've just heard something rather troubling.

 **Pugsley**

You did?

 **Gomez**

I did indeed, my boy. I just had the most bizarre encounter with one of your little classmates.

 _Pugsley seems to immediately understand what this is about and where it's going._

 **Pugsley**

Oh. I, uh…

 _Pugsley wants to speak, but resists, apparently embarrassed. Gomez waits patiently, finally stopping his wheelchair. Him and Pugsley are now a bit away from the group of parents, and in a good enough place to have their talk._

 **Gomez**

Don't stop! Out with it!

 **Pugsley**

I, uh… just don't think I should talk about it to anyone.

 **Gomez**

Nonsense, Pugsley! You're always welcome to share your troubles with me! What else is a father for?

 **Pugsley**

No, please don't be worried. I'm fine!

 **Gomez**

On the contrary, boy! Obviously, there's _something_ wrong! How about you tell me what it is, and we can iron it out together, man-to-man?

 _Pugsley hesitates. Gomez tries to say something audibly, with his own voice, but Pugsley can't tell what it is. All he manages to identify is a questioning tone to his father's noise._

 **Pugsley**

I just…

 _Pugsley thinks about it – he really wants to finally say what's been on his mind. Eventually, he relents. Pugsley would prefer to have his father as close as possible, as a sort of protective instinct, in case Kyle or Kyle's parents approach them._

 **Pugsley**

If you don't mind… is it okay if I sit on your lap?

 _Gomez nods and makes his affirmative "mm-hmm" sound._

 **Gomez**

Of course! As soon as you tell me about your trouble!

 _Pugsley nods and sighs, still afraid to verbalize it._

 **Pugsley**

Alright…

 _Pugsley brings his voice right down to a whisper._

 **Pugsley**

Kyle, in my class, kept telling me you were gonna die. And that's a lie, 'cause you're not!

 **Gomez**

That's right – I'm well as can be!

 **Pugsley**

But he told everyone you were gonna die and then everyone believed it. And then everyone kept asking me was it true – and I kept saying no, but they kept saying "but Kyle said!" and everyone loves Kyle so everyone believed him instead of me, and now no one will stop asking me if you died yet or if it was gonna happen soon. And it upset me so many times that I started crying once or twice. No one would listen to me.

 _Pugsley then manoeuvres his way onto his father's lap, sitting as comfortably as he can, obviously quite upset. Pugsley even starts to well up a little bit as he recounts the story to Gomez. Meanwhile, Gomez hears his son confirm the same story Kyle had told him earlier. Gomez is both irate with Kyle and Pugsley's classmates, heartbroken at his son's keeping it to himself, and eager beyond all else to exact his fatherly duties._

 **Gomez**

Oh, you poor lad.

 **Pugsley**

I just wish they wouldn't say you were gonna die because I know it's not true, but me and Wednesday were so worried for ages. I don't wanna think about it.

 **Gomez**

Of course, my boy. Neither do I. Why didn't you tell us?

 **Pugsley**

I thought you'd be embarrassed.

 **Gomez**

Pugsley boy, banish that thought! I'm apt to take a little embarrassment every once in a while! It's that Addams spirit!

 **Pugsley**

I'm sorry.

 **Gomez**

No need to apologize, son! Just let us know next time, and we'll put a stop to any classroom shenanigans.

 **Pugsley**

How?

 **Gomez**

By firing off a strongly worded letter! Or, better still, speaking directly to the boy's parents!

 **Pugsley**

You will?

 **Gomez**

Pugsley, lad - I'll talk to them right now if you'd like!

 **Pugsley**

Please, father. I'm tired of everyone saying it to me.

 **Gomez**

Say no more, my boy! In mere minutes, everything shall be under control! It's the Addams way!

 _Pugsley gets off his father's lap and points to Kyle's parents, who are several yards away, gesturing for Kyle, who has been hiding in a bush (as he's afraid of getting in trouble), to rejoin them. Kyle tentatively exits from his hiding place in the bush and meets his parents. As Kyle does this, Gomez also begins driving himself over to Kyle's parents. Pugsley walks slightly ahead of his father, and sees Kyle appear from the bushes. A deep sense of dread fills Pugsley._

 **Pugsley**

There he is, father.

 **Gomez**

Never fear, son, I'll handle it!

 _Pugsley nods, still a little bit worried. He turns around, and finally gets a proper look at what Kyle and his parents will see of his father. What he sees is enough to completely change his mind about Gomez confronting Kyle and family. Gomez's new outfit is what's changed Pugsley's mind. Pugsley knows all of his father's medical/mobility aids and devices, and has become very used to them over the past six months – from the tracheotomy, ventilator, wheelchair and computer – all of which are very visible and in plain sight, to more subtle and hard to see devices, like the many splints Gomez is constantly wearing, the feeding tube (which is still in place, so he doesn't have to be medicated by mouth), the colostomy bag, and several more. None of these used to be visible with Gomez wearing his suits or being draped in blankets. However, his new vacation outfit displays many of these devices, comfort, and mobility aids outwardly and prominently. Any time his father wore his suit, or if he was draped in a blanket that covered below his neck, none of these more discrete mobility aids or devices were visible._

 _Now, Pugsley sees his father looking more exposed and vulnerable than he's ever looked before out in public. Gomez is wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, showing the intricate plastic/Velcro/fabric splints that stretch and put pressure on his arms and wrists, as well as all the little pillows that cushion (but also keep blood flowing through) both of his arms. As well as this, the very light short-sleeved t-shirt also serves to show the outlines of both the g-button and the colostomy bag attached to Gomez's stomach, protruding out a little bit underneath the shirt. Not that a stranger would be instantaneously able to tell what the shapes beneath the shirt were, but Pugsley is definitely afraid that people will be able to identify that there's more life-saving medical equipment under his shirt._

 _Pugsley then turns his attention down to his father's legs and feet. The shorts, though undeniably summery, and (to Morticia) cute, show that Gomez is wearing circulation tights and foot splints. Not that Pugsley is ashamed that his father is wearing nude-coloured tights – but that he knows that people will see him having to wear them, and will instantly know it's for medical reasons. The foot splints, which are black and less noticeable, still stand out to Pugsley, as they poke out of his father's shoes and cover his socks almost completely. Most embarrassingly, nobody has made any effort whatsoever to hide or conceal or obscure Gomez's urine drainage bag, a clear bag that is eminently visible and actually quite noticeable. The function of the bag is, predictably, to drain and collect Gomez's urine in order to empty his bladder, seeing that he's incontinent and doesn't have the ability to empty his bladder himself. This bag has been placed resting behind and between his father's legs. Mortifyingly to Pugsley, it's noticeably about half-filled with urine. That, on its own, isn't out of the ordinary, but the fact that they're out in public and it's so visible, is, to Pugsley, incredibly obvious and embarrassing proof that his father is still extremely sick, vulnerable and weak._

 _Pugsley fears that if Kyle and family see his father like this, it'll only make Gomez seem as helpless, weak and deathly unwell as Kyle has been telling everyone. Pugsley fears Kyle's parents might see Gomez and completely understand why Kyle thought such things, and not tell him to stop._

 _Pugsley is so lost in thought about this, however, that he allows his father to drive right past him, and right up to Kyle's family. Kyle stands there, looking afraid that Gomez is going to get him in huge trouble. Kyle's parents raise their eyebrows quizzically at Gomez's approach._

 **Kyle**

Don't listen to anything he says!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Hello, sir?

 **Gomez**

Gomez Addams! How do you do?

 **Kyle's Dad**

Addams. _Addams…_ oh. You must be Pugsley Addams's… _father?_

 **Gomez**

I certainly am, old bean!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Well, I'm Mr Coleman, Kyle's father, and this is my wife.

 **Kyle's Mom**

Mrs Coleman.

 _Gomez can only nod in acknowledgement of their greetings to say hi. Normally he'd do a handshake but that won't be possible for many obvious reasons._

 **Gomez**

My pleasure. Now, onto our first order of business – us three ought to have a talk.

 **Kyle's Mom**

About what?

 _Gomez just darts his eyes to look at Kyle, and then back up at Kyle's parents. They both understand._

 **Gomez**

Pugsley? You are excused. You may go back to your mother.

 _Pugsley, resigned to Kyle's parents possibly not being sympathetic, nods sullenly and trots back to his mother, who's still chatting to Mrs Redmond under the tree. Gomez watches him trudging back forlornly. Meanwhile, Kyle's parents exact an order of their own._

 **Kyle's Dad**

Kyle, go to the car, will you?

 _Kyle's dad hands Kyle the car keys._

 **Kyle's Mom**

Run along, now.

 **Kyle**

Okay, but promise me you won't listen to him, mom.

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow. Kyle's mom gives Kyle brief nod and a very baffled look as Kyle scampers down the path, trying to get away as fast as he can. Now, the three parents are alone._

 **Kyle's Dad**

What's this about, Addams? What did he do?

 **Gomez**

Your son _certainly_ outdid himself with the insensitive comments! My boy has _just_ told me that your son's callous words drove him to tears!

 **Kyle's Mom**

Oh, Lord. Why am I not surprised?

 **Kyle's Dad**

That boy will say the first thing he thinks of. No common sense.

 **Gomez**

Now, now – it's not a question of common sense, Coleman! Why, on that front, I have none at all! It's about _common_ _decency_ , and _kindness_!

 **Kyle's Mom**

He's been unkind?

 **Gomez**

Indubitably, Mrs Coleman! Positively callous!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Oh, no. What's he said this time?

 **Gomez**

Insinuating, _to my son,_ in front of _all his classmates,_ that _I_ am terminally ill, _moments from death_ – when all that's nothing but a vile canard!

 **Kyle's Mom**

You're not sick?

 **Gomez**

Not at all! I never felt better!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Just disabled, I guess.

 **Gomez**

That's it in a nutshell!

 **Kyle's Dad**

He was going around, telling everyone you were going to die, am I right?

 _Gomez nods emphatically. He is a little surprised that they didn't need much convincing at all. He is pleasantly surprised not to be having an argument._

 **Gomez**

You're right!

 _Kyle's parents don't seem surprised._

 **Kyle's Dad**

This won't be the first time.

 **Kyle's Mom**

He's notorious for spreading rumours. But this has finally gone too far if he's upset your boy. No normal kid wants to be constantly asked if or when his father is going to die. I'm sure he's already been through enough, with whatever it was made you disabled in the first place.

 **Gomez**

Exactly my point, Mrs Coleman! Such behaviour ought to be stopped at once!

 **Kyle's Mom**

We couldn't agree more, Mr Addams. This is something we've been trying to work on him with – just thinking before he speaks. He can't seem to wrap his brain around the concept.

 _Gomez is tickled by the mental image of someone's brain being wrapped around something. He laughs – as before, his laugh sounds more and more like a real laugh with every day._

 **Gomez**

Hm. What a thought.

 _Neither of the Coleman parents seem to understand what Gomez said that in response to, but carry on anyway._

 **Kyle's Dad**

So what can we do for you and, more importantly, your son?

 **Gomez**

Well, you can start by forbidding _any_ mention of me, _or_ my health, from the classroom! Swing that, and we should be alright!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Okay. We will implore him. Ground him, or something, if he goes against it.

 **Kyle's Mom**

We are so, _so_ sorry, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

No damage!

 **Kyle's Mom**

And accept our apologies, please.

 **Gomez**

Oh, by all means. Apology accepted!

 **Kyle's Dad**

If you or your family needs anything, we/

 **Gomez**

/ _Need_ anything? Why, we Addamses haven't needed anything in 300 years! Very decent of you, but it isn't necessary.

 _Gomez thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

Wait! Pardon me - as a matter of fact, something _does_ spring to mind. You see, ever since becoming ill, I've been unable to partake in mine and Lurch's weekly katana session, and poor old man's been a bit off lately. My wife caught him slicing up the curtains, even preparing meals with the old blade! We think poor Lurch could do with a good sparring session!

 **Kyle's Mom**

We, uh…

 _Gomez grins._

 **Gomez**

It's a lot of fun!

 _Gomez is still smiling like an idiot. There is a confused silence._

 **Gomez**

What do you say?

 **Kyle's Dad**

I'll… get back to you on that. Gotta check my work schedule.

 **Gomez**

Don't worry – I shall solemnly order Lurch to take the afternoon off whenever it best suits!

 **Kyle's Mom**

We'll text you when we have an hour.

 _This answer satisfies Gomez._

 **Gomez**

Bully! Fine people, the both of you!

 **Kyle's Dad**

Now, if you're okay with it, we have to have a stern talk with Kyle.

 _Gomez nods, remembering why they had this talk in the first place, his smile shrinking a little as he tries to go back into "serious mode"._

 **Gomez**

Good thinking.

 **Kyle's Mom**

Cheers. Good to meet you again.

 _The Colemans head towards their car, making uncomfortable eye contact with Lurch, who neither of them have any desire to fight, especially with deadly weapons. Gomez goes back to grinning very widely at them, giving them both a goodbye nod as they leave._

 **Gomez**

Bye-bye now!

 _Gomez feels very satisfied with himself, and spins his chair around. He sees Pugsley hanging around near his mother. By this point, Wednesday's class still hasn't left. Pugsley makes eye contact with his father. Gomez drives back over to Pugsley, ready to tell him how things went._

 _When he arrives, Pugsley approaches him._

 **Pugsley**

So… what did they say?

 **Gomez**

My boy, you don't need to worry about a thing! Your problem is solved!

 **Pugsley**

Really? They said they'd tell him to stop?

 **Gomez**

They did indeed, son. Fine stock, those two.

 **Pugsley**

They didn't think you were dying?

 **Gomez**

Why would they? I told them I wasn't!

 **Pugsley**

I guess I told Kyle you weren't, but he didn't believe me. Kids must be so stupid.

 **Gomez**

Don't waste another moment on that tactless scoundrel, lad! I told you I'd solve it! Ah, yet another triumph of the Addams spirit!

 _Pugsley breaks out into a very relieved smile. He can't believe Kyle is actually finally going to get in trouble._

 **Pugsley**

Thank you, father.

 _Pugsley goes back into his father's lap all of a sudden, getting himself comfortable, and giving his father a gentle hug._

 _Gomez laughs at the abruptness of Pugsley's hug – and as before, his laugh is audible and identifiable as a laugh. This heartens Pugsley even more, who just keeps hugging Gomez, grateful that even though he can't physically do anything of significant note – that his father is still more than capable of advocating for him when he needs a parent to fight his corner._

 _On the other side, Gomez is in a way thrilled that that worked. It's a very "dad" thing to do – and he did it without a hitch, and got a problem solved. It makes him feel, at the end of the day, decidedly useful._


	56. Day 195 (Part 1)

_**AN:**_ _Apologies, my dudes. This may be in several parts as well but that's all I can manage what with my schedule at the moment! There will be more to this plotline! Just expect the individual parts to be a bit shorter. Thanks to VictoriaMimiValery for the suggestion for this chapter!_

* * *

 _Morticia is in her fourth day of a bad cold. She has been advised by all medical professionals taking care of Gomez to stay away from him. She has effectively quarantined herself inside of a guest room in the house, desperate not to make her husband sick. In his weakened state, he is extremely vulnerable to contracting illnesses, and even a cold could be very dangerous for him. Since he is stationary 24/7, usually either half-lying, half-sitting in his wheelchair (the back of his chair is always tilted a bit backwards as so to ensure Gomez's head never falls forward), or just plain and simple lying in bed, he is extremely prone to something like pneumonia developing from what seems to be a mere cold to you and I. In order to keep Gomez well, Morticia has taken it upon herself to ensure she doesn't pass any illnesses on to him._

 _This has been a huge blow to both of them, being unable to rely on each other for immediate support. The two of them function very symbiotically, and without the other, both are feeling desperately alone. Gomez lays in bed, feeling utterly useless and completely downcast – he doesn't have Morticia there to make him feel like he isn't a burden. He knows no one thinks of him as one, but Morticia's love is so effortless and her support so unwavering that he never feels self-conscious when he's with her. He knows he isn't inconveniencing her. With the others, especially the adult members of the family, he worries he's taking up their time, and bothering them. The longer he spends without her there by his side to just be close to him, the more he feels depressed._

 _Morticia on the other hand is feeling much the same but for different reasons. She feels immeasurably guilty for what she's had to do. She knows that without her doing this, Gomez would be extremely prone and vulnerable to contracting something that could slow down his recovery to almost a standstill. However, she still feels immense guilt because she knows this was her decision to make – and just because it was the right decision doesn't mean it isn't causing them both intense emotional pain. The longer she spends away from him, even though he's only in another room, the more she misses everything about being close to him. Sure, he can't really do much, but just being beside him gives her all the comfort she needs. When he isn't there near her to just be, and provide his unique brand of effortless emotional support just by being his charming self, Morticia suffers. He is her rock, and she is his._

 _Both of them text each other constantly. However, both Morticia and Gomez are determined not to show how completely devastated they are to the other. The last thing they want is for the other to feel upset, and they are doing everything they can not to upset their loves. There is only so much they can both do, though._

 _We open as they finish a text conversation. Morticia lays in the bed in the guest room, still feeling sick and gross. Gomez lays in the master bedroom, alone in the room, feeling pretty empty without seeing his wife for four days._

 **Morticia**

Darling, how are you doing?

 **Gomez**

Alright, I suppose.

 **Morticia**

I do hope Lurch and Uncle Fester are caring for you well, dear.

 **Gomez**

Well, they _do_ lack your healing touch, but they'll do.

 **Morticia**

Remember, Gomez. If you have the slightest problem, you are to alert Dr Harvey right away. Yes?

 **Gomez**

Understood, my darling - loud and clear.

 **Morticia**

Good. I miss you.

 **Gomez**

And I, you, querida.

 _Morticia sighs at his cute text. She's so in love with him and wants to be beside him having this conversation. She wants to be holding his hand as she says these words to him._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _Gomez can't take it either. He finally gets honest, sharing how he's truly feeling. Deep down, though, Morticia already knew he was feeling this way. She knows him well enough to know when he's putting on a brave façade. Besides, she's also doing the exact same thing. They both know the other is trying to be brave. Without even acknowledging it, they both drop all pretence._

 **Gomez**

Oh, Tish. I can't contain it any longer! My heart! It aches for your touch! Your voice! That healing energy!

 **Morticia**

I know, angel. Just a day or so more, and I'll be back to you.

 _Gomez feels so lousy. He figures that Morticia must feel this way all the time – constantly wishing to hear her love's voice and feel her love's touch – things he can't really provide to her in a meaningful way yet._

 **Gomez**

Now I know how you feel.

 _Morticia wishes she could hug him through the phone. His words are so pitiful._

 **Morticia**

Darling, please, don't say that. You have been with me through every step of this wretched ordeal! This is different. You really are alright, yes?

 **Gomez**

Just a little lovesick.

 **Morticia**

You poor dear. I must admit, so am I. I miss just spending time with you. Breathing in the aura of your blue-blooded Castilian aristocracy, laying my eyes upon that handsome face.

 _Gomez is momentarily transported by the compliment, suddenly feeling a bit coy for a moment. He gets playful._

 **Gomez**

Maybe you should lay your eyes on my face for real.

 _Seeing Gomez being playful and cute wreck Morticia. She has been wanting so badly to even just hear his computerized voice again. At this point, she misses hearing the computer voice, because hearing it means they're together in the same room. Before, she'd hear the computer voice and marvel at its technological prowess, sure, and be grateful to hear her husband's words and communications, but on another level, she always secretly ached to hear his speaking voice form those same words – especially as she can always tell how he would have spoken the words if he were able to physically speak them. But now, reading his words just as text breaks her heart._

 **Morticia**

Oh, my poor Gomez. I wish I could. It sounds so romantic, so sensual. Oh, to be with you. Sitting here all alone is torture.

 **Gomez**

It's more fun doing things together.

 **Morticia**

You're so right, darling.

 _Morticia remembers that Gomez needs a bath every day at this time. She reminds him._

 **Morticia**

Now – my phone says it's 5. And the clock on my wall says 3.30.

 **Gomez**

Which means it's exactly 4:25!

 **Morticia**

Exactly, dear. Time for your bath.

 _Gomez immediately feels a bit awkward._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

I know how you feel about others bathing you, Gomez, but you must remember, it's for the best. If I did it tonight, I could make you deathly ill.

 **Gomez**

I know. Just a shame, that's all.

 **Morticia**

You're being very brave, my sweet.

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 **Morticia**

I'm glad you can recognize your nobility. It's a trait most men lack. But it emanates from you remember, darling, while you're being bathed, that you are the picture of dignity and strength!

 _Gomez takes some comfort even just in those words._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, Tish.

 _Morticia, meanwhile, wants to be there and bathe him. She can't bear how awkward and ashamed and downcast her husband is going to feel – indeed, how he must already feel._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _Gomez, too, wishes that he could have her with him. His entire body feels weaker and weaker without her love to imbue him with strength. Being lovesick is no good for a man like Gomez. All he can do is call to her virtually._

 **Gomez**

Morticia…

 **Morticia**

I love you so, dear. I suppose there isn't a poet on Earth who can say it more succinctly than that.

 _Gomez feels a little playful again. Despite how crap he feels, Morticia, even through text, can always bring out his playfulness, even when no one else can._

 **Gomez**

Not so fast! Much to be said for the words "adore", "cherish", and "treasure"!

 **Morticia**

You're right. Well, what about… you are the only one I _venerate_ , _idolize_ , and _relish?_

 _Gomez genuinely hasn't heard the word relish used in this context before in his entire life._

 **Gomez**

Relish?

 **Morticia**

Indeed.

 **Gomez**

I'm a condiment?

 _Morticia is charmed by her husband so effortlessly. She enjoys teaching him new things._

 **Morticia**

Don't be silly, my dear, it's another word for love. Didn't you learn it in English class?

 _Gomez thinks about it._

 **Gomez**

Must have been absent that day.

 _But Morticia remembers Gomez's care schedule._

 **Morticia**

But Gomez, you're apt to get a little distracted. I hear Uncle Fester and Lurch climbing the stairs to give you your bath. You'd best be putting that computer on sleep mode for now. I'll talk to you as soon as you're all washed and clean, alright?

 _Gomez finally resolves to face his bath with courage and conviction as best he can._

 **Gomez**

Alright, my dear. For you, anything!

 _Gomez sends Morticia a selfie taken from his computer. In it, his eyes are closed, and he's smiling sheepishly, not showing his teeth. His face has a resigned-but-positive kind of look. Gomez is sending it to try to signal their shared discomfort over this awful situation in a positive and light-hearted way. When Morticia receives it, she actually tears up, as she knows how uncomfortable Gomez is being washed and cleaned by other people – just because it's such an intimate thing and he really only likes his wife seeing him naked (if you know what I mean heheh). Morticia, seeing her husband's face, immediately notices that no one has applied his eyeliner, and that the bags under his eyes are accentuated more than ever. Usually, Gomez sports his eye bags proudly, to match with his aesthetic. But this just shows how exhausted he is. She fears he hasn't gotten enough sleep. She is almost about to text him back, but she hears from outside the room, the noises of Fester and Lurch wheeling Gomez out of the room in his hoist. He never uses his computer in the bathroom area for obvious reasons._

 _Now with no one to text, Morticia puts her phone down and just lets herself get a little teary. Just a few more days, and they'll be together again._


	57. Day 193 (Interlude)

_**AN:**_ _Hey, still going with this multiple parter, but a health crisis in our family has arisen and chances are a much-loved person isn't going to make it. Not my aunt, but someone else. In any case, I have been thinking a lot about death at the moment and will update the multi-parter when I regroup in a few more days. Here's a short thing I just wrote on that topic. Back to regularly scheduled fic soon - thanks for your patience!_

* * *

 _Morticia wakes in bed, in hysterical tears. She hyperventilates as she wakes, eyes wet, head pounding, utterly beside herself, and for a brief moment, she thinks, with nowhere to turn._

 **Morticia**

Gomez! Gomez!

 _Her voice cracks. She turns, and sees her husband, laying in bed as ever._

 **Morticia**

Gomez...

 _Gomez is soon awoken beside his wife. He comes to. He hears Morticia crying out for him, and, in his sleepy state, he forgets he can't move. He tries to sit up and hold her in his arms, but instead, nothing happens._

 _Finally, he comes to his senses after a few moments._

 _Still sleepy, he tries to speak Morticia's name, attempting to form the word "Tish"._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Tish…

 _The noise he actually produces is very slurred and so incomprehensible that would probably be a wonder that Morticia can understand that her husband is saying her name. However, Morticia is well-attuned to her husband's various noises, so she can usually tell what he is trying to say. Everything Gomez says aloud is excruciatingly difficult to understand – and really, only Morticia can understand him. And even then, she can only really understand him about 75% of the time._

 _When she hears his voice, she sighs mournfully. Her heart is still beating at a thousand miles an hour, her head thumping violently. She can't take her eyes off of Gomez for even a moment – she cannot bear not to have him in her line of sight._

 _Still sitting up in bed, she finally reaches out and touches him. She strokes his cheek, and gulps, still welling up._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez.

 _Gomez is still frazzled, having been woken up rather suddenly. He wants to comfort her immediately, but the work it would take to speak a sentence with his current vocal abilities means providing immediate comfort with his words is not feasible. Still, Gomez knows that he doesn't need to be able to actually speak words aloud that his wife can understand in order to comfort her. He just groans, but it's more than enough to comfort Morticia._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Mmm…

 _Morticia sighs, comforted by her husband's voice, reminding her that he's there, he's lucid, and he's trying to help. Then, suddenly, she starts to feel guilty for waking him._

 **Morticia**

Gomez, darling - I _am_ sorry. I woke you, didn't I?

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Mhm.

 _A brief moment while Gomez waits for his next breath on the ventilator. He doesn't want Morticia to feel bad. He's extremely concerned about her._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

But, cara/

 **Morticia**

/Oh, Gomez, dear. You mustn't waste another moment worrying about me. I'm sorry.

 _Gomez makes a noise in response, but Morticia doesn't understand him._

 _When Morticia only keeps stroking his cheek and doesn't reply, he makes the noise again._

 **Morticia**

Could you say that again, Gomez, dear?

 _He makes the noise again. Morticia decides to nip the communication problem in the bud._

 **Morticia**

Do you want your computer, my angel?

 _Gomez groans in response._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Mhm.

 **Morticia**

Alright, darling, I'll get it right away.

 _Morticia slips out of bed, strokes Gomez's face again, and moves over to where the computer sits on the chaise longue. She lifts it up, locks it to its frame, wheels it over to Gomez, and turns it on for him._

 _She gets back into bed as the computer boots up. She sits up in bed next to Gomez. Gomez is still lying down. She slightly adjusts the angle of the computer, and then gently places her hand under his head, cradles it in her hand, and rests it against her shoulder. Her body cushions his head, and she plays with his hair absentmindedly._

 _All Morticia's gentle, caring gestures are driving Gomez wild. He throws his eyes up to her with intense passion bursting from him like a wellspring. He wants to help so badly._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Cara...

 _Finally the computer program loads. Gomez immediately launches the text-to-speech programme._

 **Gomez**

Morticia, my pet! What's wrong?

 _Morticia keeps stroking her husband's hair._

 **Morticia**

Oh, you poor dear, so thoughtful. I didn't mean to wake you. Don't worry, don't worry.

 _Morticia sniffles._

 **Gomez**

Not worry? Why, cara mia - you're crying!

 **Morticia**

Don't worry about it, my angel.

 **Gomez**

But, querida mia – I must!

 **Morticia**

Oh, my darling. I'm sorry for upsetting you.

 _Morticia wipes away some tears. Gomez looks up at Morticia as best he can, overwhelmed by passion, not able to contain himself, composing a sentence on his computer and groaning at the same time._

 **Gomez**

Tish, when you cry, it sets my heart aflame!

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Hmm…

 _Morticia is cheering up a bit more at his words. He always knows how to make her feel better. She smiles through the tears._

 **Morticia**

Oh, you Castilians. Your passion – your inner fire – it's unmatched.

 _Morticia nuzzles her head, resting it against the top of Gomez's, smiling but obviously still upset. She works up the courage to admit to him what upset her._

 **Morticia**

Darling…

 **Gomez**

Yes, my dear?

 **Morticia**

I dreamt you had died. I just… I can't take the image out of my head. The thought's going to make me cry…

 _The two of them just share this moment, taking it in. Gomez, internally, screams – wanting to be able so badly to take her in his arms and show her that he's going to be fine._

 **Gomez**

Tish... oh, eroina mia… banish the thought!

 **Morticia**

I thought it was real. That I would have to lie here, alone, forever. Oh, Gomez.

 _Morticia gulps, crying again._

 **Morticia**

Now I understand why Wednesday was so frightened. My angel, it felt so real.

 **Gomez** (aloud, trying to sound reassuring without words)

Mmmm…

 **Gomez**

It may have, cara bella, but all it is is fantasy!

 **Morticia**

If you weren't with us...

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Tish…

 **Morticia**

Gomez…

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Tish…

 _Gomez edges and heaves his hand very slowly and carefully to finally meet Morticia's hand. He groans a little, under the strain of moving his hand to the absolute maximum amount he can move it without straining or hurting himself. He weakly grasps Morticia's hand, and then squeezes it – a little stronger every time he does so._

 **Gomez**

I could never leave you, my sweet.

 **Morticia**

I know... oh, of course it isn't real. I've been a fool, Gomez.

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

 _I_ don't think so.

 **Morticia**

I should have known it was only a dream from the moment I awoke... Gomez, I'm so sorry to have woken you. Let's get you back to sleep.

 _Gomez nods._

 **Gomez**

I _am_ a tad spent.

 **Morticia**

I'll turn off your computer. It is rather bright.

 _Gomez nods again._

 **Gomez**

Thank you, cara.

 _Morticia turns the screen off, and with a reach, pushes the stand a little bit away from the bed._

 _She cuddles her husband closer, finally moving into a hug, wrapping her other arm around him._

 _Gomez groans, but Morticia knows he's just saying "I love you" in his own way._

 _Then, Morticia carefully moves her hands out of the hug, and gently takes Gomez's hands and arms, and lifts them a little, wrapping them around her, to hold and comfort her._

 _Gomez makes a noise meant to evoke reassurance, gratefulness, and love._

 **Gomez** (aloud)

Mmmmm…

 **Morticia**

You can say so much without saying anything darling. I can always understand what you're trying to say. It's that Addams eloquence.

 _Gomez smiles. Morticia hears the smile in his voice the next time his ventilator breathes for him and he vocalizes again._

 **Gomez**

Mmm…

 **Morticia**

Maybe it's because we're just so perfectly matched.

 _Gomez weakly laughs, and it's vocally audible. Morticia kisses the top of his head. Gomez, now with his arms positioned to be hugging Morticia. He puts as much hug-level pressure as he can on his arms (which are almost like lead weights), his wrists (which are very very heavy weights), and his hands (which are heavy but mobile) to actually try and give her a hug – even a weak hug that barely registers as anything of note is enough for him._

 _With the amount of work it takes for Gomez to hug Morticia, it tires him out a huge amount. Finally, he drifts back off to sleep, and Morticia isn't long behind him, soon falling back asleep again herself._


	58. Quick Update

Hi all, I haven't forgotten about you guys. Just that my grandfather passed away last week and I've been very much snowed under with having to deal with that as well as all the jobs I have at the moment. Once the dust settles I'll be back.

In the meantime, let me know if you agree with me - do you guys think that the guy who sings "Over the Garden Wall" by The Blasting Company sounds like John Astin just a little bit? I really do hear some similarities between them and it makes me imagine Gomez singing the song to Morticia, and that's cute as hell, man. Let me know if you hear the similarities between their voices!


	59. Day 199

_**AN:**_ _Thank you to everyone for your patience! I'm back with another chapter after a long old break because of family emergencies. I wanna give a special shoutout to McHobbit who's left tons of amazing reviews that revitalized my interest in getting back into writing this after a long break. Keep them coming! Seeing how into the story you've been honestly warms the cockles of my heart. But also, shoutout to everyone who's left a review. Big love to all of the people who have been interested in this, and glad to finally be able to deliver you another chapter. We are getting to the point now where Gomez is finding it easier and easier to speak, which is a big step. Everything he says in this chapter, he says aloud but slurred. Okay, and on with the show..._

* * *

 _It is 10am and Morticia is back from a trip to the doctor's office. Usually, her and Gomez are up much earlier than this, but it's been a rough few days. All Gomez wants to do is sleep. That morning, he was woken up rather unceremoniously by Uncle Fester at 7am. With a printed out, crumpled up care schedule in hand, Fester did his absolute best to maintain Gomez's delicate life support routine, suctioning his trach tube rather shakily, administering several medications via the feeding tube, and also cleaning and changing out all of Gomez's drainage bags (including his colostomy bag), before plodding back outside to meditate in his tree and hope against all hope he doesn't have to do anything like that again. With his nervousness about messing it up, paired with his genuinely awful hand-eye coordination, he doesn't want to unintentionally kill his nephew._

 _Morticia, meanwhile, sneaks into the master bedroom to find Gomez asleep, which is very unlike him at 10am. In fairness, however, the last few days have frazzled him and undoubtedly disrupted his normal routine._

 _The doctor gave Morticia the all-clear to interact with her husband again after the last couple of days apart, and to say that she is craving him in every way conceivable to the human mind would be an understatement._

 _When she initially enters the room, Gomez is in a very deep sleep. It's been several hours since Fester carried out Gomez's morning care routine, so Morticia wonders if Gomez might need something done again. Before she can wonder too much, though, she banishes the thought from her mind, replacing it with just a genuine joy to be back, and so close to her beloved._

 _She quickly decides to change into her nightgown. Gomez remains asleep through all of this. When Morticia has slipped into her nightgown, she seems to glide over to the bed. She gently lifts the covers, sliding comfortably beside her sleeping husband. She wonders how long it will take him to notice her presence, or wake up. However, as soon as she gets close enough to feel his warmth, the unavoidable pull of sleep overtakes her. She immediately realizes she can sleep without feeling guilt or worry about not being able to be there for Gomez. She slowly begins to drift off, curling up next to her husband, and resting her head on his shoulder._

 _As Morticia descends into sleep, Gomez begins to rouse. He finally emerges blearily from his deep sleep enough to notice that something is different. He feels the soft pressure on his shoulder, and slowly brings his eyes open. When he sees that it's Morticia, he immediately remembers that yes, she did have that doctors appointment today! It must have gone well! Absolutely delighted, and suddenly feeling a wave of safety and comfort wash over him, he closes his eyes once more, smiles, and relishes the moment._

 _When Gomez opens his eyes again, He's overcome by excitement. He can't hold it In! He whispers, his speech slurred still, but it is clear enough for Morticia to be able to tell everything he's saying._

 **Gomez**

 _Tish!_

 _Morticia rouses, having almost fallen back asleep. When she hears her husband slurrily speak her name, she immediately comes back to earth. She beams at her husband, who's turned his head a little to look into her eyes. He, too, looks thrilled. She can tell he's overcome with excitement. He has always been an incredibly excitable man and now is no exception, even when so encumbered by illness and paralysis. She can feel the excited energy emanating from him even though he can't actually move much. She notices this, and as soon as she sees the desire to lift her up and shower her with kisses manifest in his eyes, she feels a pang of sorrow._

 **Morticia**

Oh... Gomez... my poor, poor dear.

 _Gomez is still just overcome with excitement that she's back._

 **Gomez**

Tish!

 **Morticia**

Let me just clean your mouth, darling.

 _Morticia, not breaking eye contact with Gomez, reaches to the bedside table for a tissue. Eventually, she grabs one from a tissue box and without even looking back, she brings the tissue to Gomez's mouth and dabs away any drool that accumulated while he was asleep. Gomez lets her do it without batting an eye._

 _Putting the tissue back on the bedside table, Morticia cozies up beside Gomez again, getting comfortable, relishing this moment. It's only been three or four days spent apart, but three or four days is enough to give them both lifetimes of grief while apart._

 **Morticia**

You have been so courageous, my angel.

 **Gomez**

As have you, cara.

 _Morticia checks that she understands him correctly._

 **Morticia**

As have I?

 _Gomez nods._

 **Morticia**

Thank you. Oh, Gomez - your messages were the only shred of sanity I could cling onto throughout this wretched ordeal.

 **Gomez**

Cara mia...

 **Morticia**

Are you very tired, my darling?

 _Gomez shakes his head. Morticia isn't sure she believes him._

 **Morticia**

Really and truly, Gomez?

 _Gomez weakly shrugs his shoulders._

 **Gomez**

Perhaps a little, querida mia.

 _Morticia can't help but smile at him trying to be strong but being unable to avoid being honest. She is also blown away by how much easier to understand his voice sounds after these past few days. He has been constantly improving._

 **Morticia**

Your voice is so clear.

 _But to be honest it really isn't that clear - it's just a little better than it was before. But Morticia still notes this little improvement, and she remains bowled over by any progress he shows._

 _Gomez gets excited by her flattery, and wakes up even more._

 **Gomez**

It is?

 _Morticia nods, beaming._

 **Morticia**

Why yes, Gomez! I understood every word you said. Oh... you are _remarkable..._

 _Gomez gets a brainwave - perhaps the children might be able to understand him now, as well! How he'd love that._

 **Gomez**

Tish - do you think... the children?

 _Morticia confirms with him that he's saying what she thinks he's saying._

 **Morticia**

Do I think they would understand you?

 **Gomez**

Yes.

 **Morticia**

Well...

 _Morticia thinks about it, acutely aware that she does have an expert understanding of her husband's voice and vocabulary, but in this case, she tries to be objective when she considers if her children would have the same level of attunement to his voice. Eventually, though, she decides that his voice has improved to such a degree that she believes that the kids would definitely be able to understand at least some of what he says aloud._

 _Morticia nods._

 **Morticia**

Yes, I do believe they would. Some sounds _are_ still hard for you though, aren't they, darling?

 _Gomez nods, not denying it._

 **Morticia**

No matter. You're doing splendidly! You'll regain mastery of all of them again in due course. Though, I do believe it wouldn't hurt to try using your computer less around the children. After all, you cannot rely on it forever.

 _Gomez nods again._

 **Gomez**

You don't think they would be/

 _Morticia knows what he's going to say. She nips it in the bud._

 **Morticia**

/Do not even speak the word, Gomez! Neither of them will be even remotely embarrassed by your speaking. Why, darling, they'll be joyful! Simply because a man struggles with slurring, and struggles to make all his words coherent after being entirely voiceless, mouth paralyzed, for months on end... of course they will understand, dear. They'll understand completely. Everything you do, you do with poise and dignity!

 _Gomez is, indeed, comforted._

 **Gomez**

Thank you Tish. You always think of the right thing to say.

 _Morticia smiles wryly._

 **Morticia**

Because, darling, I am always right.

 _Gomez smiles back, very knowingly._

 **Gomez**

That's true.

 _Morticia thinks about it for a moment, before deciding to go for it. She will summon the children presently._

 **Morticia**

Shall I call for them?

 _Gomez is eager to see if his children will understand his speaking. He does want, very badly, to become liberated from his eye-gaze computer._

 **Gomez**

Cara mia, I would love nothing more.

 _Morticia strokes his cheek._

 **Morticia**

So it shall be, my dear.

 _Morticia eventually reaches out into space, and pulls one of the hundreds of miscellaneous Addams nooses without looking back at where she's pulling. She just instinctively knows where it is. The gong sounds._

 _Lurch, like clockwork, arrives in the doorframe._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 _Morticia looks up a little and addresses Lurch._

 **Morticia**

Yes, Lurch, dear, could you fetch the children?

 **Lurch**

Yes, Mrs Addams.

 _Morticia turns back, and kisses Gomez on his forehead. Then, she slowly slips back out of their bed, putting a black silk dressing gown on over her nightgown. Right after she does so, Wednesday and Pugsley appear in the door frame._

 _Wednesday immediately runs to her mother, seeing that she's over her cold._

 **Wednesday**

You're feeling better!

 _Morticia strokes Wednesday's hair._

 **Morticia**

I am indeed, Wednesday, darling. Come, angels, your father and I have an _experiment_ we wish to run!

 _Pugsley grins, almost maniacally._

 **Pugsley**

 _Yesssss!_ I love experiments!

 _Morticia takes a pillow from the end of the bed, right by Gomez's feet. Then, she brings the pillow around to Gomez. She slowly cups her hand behind his head, and lifts his head up enough for her to slide the pillow underneath it, giving him some more elevation, and a better view of his family._

 **Gomez**

Ah, that's better.

 **Morticia**

Darling...

 _She also takes his hand, raising his hand up a little bit, but when she takes his hand, he squeezes hers back. While obviously, he is able to do this and has been able to for a while, it's always a delightful and heartening surprise for her when he moves any part of himself without her expecting him to. Little things can still tire him out easily, so she doesn't expect him to exert himself much, but she also reminds herself that as he slowly recovers, these things take less energy and tire him out way less. All this is positive progress._

 _When Gomez does squeeze her hand back, Morticia immediately darts her head to meet his eyes and smiles, flattered, at him. Gomez smiles back devilishly. Morticia looks back at her children._

 **Morticia**

Darlings, we simply wish to know if you are able to understand your father when he speaks aloud!

 _Gomez demonstrates._

 **Gomez**

Like this!

 _Both Wednesday and Pugsley nod._

 **Pugsley**

Sure we can!

 **Wednesday**

He said "like this"!

 **Gomez**

Not bad!

 _Morticia looks at Gomez. Gomez tries again, with his signature grin plastered on his face._

 **Gomez**

What about now, children?

 _Wednesday and Pugsley both nod again. Gomez pushes it even further._

 **Gomez**

Perfect! How about you tell me about how school went today?

 _Wednesday giggles. Pugsley facepalms in a loving way._

 **Wedesday**

Father, it's Saturday!

 **Pugsley**

And it's 10am!

 _Gomez's eyes widen._

 **Gomez**

It is? Egad, I'm apt to lose track of time!

 _Morticia strokes her husband's hand, just grateful to be back in his presence. Gomez seems to have forgotten why they began speaking in the first place, and his mind wanders away from the experiment and just keeps on chatting. As Gomez chuckles quietly, Morticia squeezes Gomez's hand again and tries to bring him back to the topic at hand._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, you _are_ a darling. I think this proves it.

 _Gomez remembers what the point of the conversation was._

 **Gomez**

Wonderful!

 _He beams, safe in the knowledge that his wife is right._

 **Gomez**

Why, I suppose it does! An excellent development!

 _Gomez smiles goofily at his wife and children. Meanwhile, Morticia looks at the kids, trying to remind them that they still need to be conscientious around their father._

 **Morticia**

Wednesday, Pugsley, dears - what do we do if you can't understand your father?

 _Wednesday and Pugsley both have instant but differing answers._

 **Wednesday**

Ask him again?

 **Pugsley**

Get his computer?

 _Morticia nods, glad at their eagerness._

 **Morticia**

Ah, brilliant answers, my angels, absolutely brilliant.

 _Pugsley keeps going though, thinking more about the topic at hand, addressing Gomez instead of Morticia._

 **Pugsley**

But father... when will you not need that dumb computer? I'm getting tired of it... father, I wish you would just talk, cause now you can.

 _Gomez gets briefly introspective. Morticia feels her heart sink, not wanting her husband to become ashamed or embarrassed._

 **Gomez**

Hm.

 _Morticia tries damage control._

 **Morticia**

Pugsley, dear... _I know_ it's hard but _sometimes,_ if your father _really_ needs to say something...

 _But Gomez seems to bounce back from the brief moment of introspection with his usual cheeriness._

 **Gomez**

Perhaps, cara mia, the time _has_ come to phase it out.

 _Morticia looks at her husband. Initially, she seems surprised, but in all honesty, she soon decides that she shouldn't have been have been. Of course her dear Gomez would embrace such a challenge! But, she does want to make sure he's ready._

 **Morticia**

Darling, are you sure?

 _Gomez nods and grins, confidence growing._

 **Gomez**

Positively!

 _Pugsley's face flushes with excitement._

 **Pugsley**

Yay!

 _Morticia still fusses over Gomez._

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, darling, you still mustn't be afraid to ask for it if you need something and we can't tell what it is.

 _Gomez understands completely._

 **Gomez**

Good thinking, my love.

 **Morticia**

But, darling, I have no doubt you can do it.

 _Gomez grins cheekily, being jokey._

 **Gomez**

Neither do I, querida mia - there is nothing Gomez Addams cannot handle!

 _Gomez keeps grinning devilishly, and Morticia can't help but lean in and kiss his forehead again. Pugsley notices this. Pugsley looks back at Wednesday and rolls his eyes._

 **Pugsley**

All right, they're back at it, time to go back to our duel.

 **Wednesday**

Can I shoot first this time?

 _Pugsley sighs dramatically._

 **Pugsley**

That's not how duels work, for the last time!

 _Gomez is able to hear this, and lends them his thoughts._

 **Gomez**

Ah - not exactly! Only if you're honest!

 _Wednesday gives Pugsley a "ha!" kind of expression._

 **Wednesday**

See?

 **Pugsley**

Fine! You can shoot first, but only this once, okay?

 **Wednesday**

YAY!

 **Morticia**

Run along now, you two! Don't be too gentle!

 _Wednesday and Pugsley scamper away._

 **Wedsnesday / Pugsley**

See you!

 _The two run along out the door, and Pugsley closes the door behind them._

 **Gomez**

That boy. Heart of gold. Just like his mother.

 _Morticia sighs as the two of them leave, looking back at her beloved._

 **Morticia**

Darling, you are so very brave, making as bold a choice as that.

 _Gomez smiles humbly._

 **Gomez**

For you, cara? For the children? Anything!

 **Morticia**

Oh, bubeleh...

 _Gomez's eyes widen, as he gets overtaken by passion._

 **Gomez**

Tish! That word! Sets my blood aflame! Kiss me, querida!

 _Morticia leans back down and kisses Gomez first on the forehead, and next on the lips. Gomez speaks, hard for anyone else to understand but Morticia knows everything he's trying to say._

 **Gomez**

Oh, Tish - hold me! I can't stand it!

 _Morticia runs her hands through Gomez's hair, gazing at his face._

 **Morticia**

Of course. You are so handsome, darling.

 **Gomez**

And you were never lovelier...

 _Morticia removes her dressing gown, and slips back into bed beside her husband. She snuggles closely next to him, stroking his hair. The two of them savour the moment, looking into each others' eyes. Finally, Morticia speaks softly, breaking the silence._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez... you have no idea how much I have missed this...

 **Gomez**

Morticia mia...

 **Morticia**

I couldn't sleep with the knowledge that you had to lie alone, all these nights. That others have had to care for you so intimately. It breaks my heart, Gomez.

 **Gomez**

You have such a delicate touch, cara...

 _Gomez tries to keep speaking, but just makes a comforting, "mmm" noise, and keeps getting sleepier and sleepier now that he and Morticia are getting cozier. He nuzzles his head on her shoulder, and she gets comfortable again._

 **Gomez**

Querida...

 **Morticia**

Gomez...

 _The two of them slowly drift back off to sleep, finally back together after only a couple of days apart. But to them, it's been many lifetimes._


	60. Day 208

_Pugsley is pacing up and down the living room, after relaying to his parents that he is being forced to sing a solo song at a school concert as part of his music grade. Morticia and Gomez have both agreed to attend the concert, which is tomorrow, as a show of support and solidarity. Gomez at this point is getting a lot better at talking aloud, and hasn't used his computer to communicate much since he committed to phasing it out a while ago. He does not use the computer at all in this chapter. It's upstairs in the bedroom. Now, he still speaks in a weaker and wheezier voice due to the ventilator, but as the weeks have progressed, he's become much, much easier to understand._

 **Pugsley**

But, mother! Father! I don't want to sing!

 **Morticia**

But you are such a talented singer, dear!

 **Pugsley**

I hate singing!

 **Morticia**

Oh, angel. It isn't the singing you hate. It must be the music. Perhaps you simply haven't found the right song! How does a melancholic ballad sound?

 **Gomez**

A fiery tango?!

 **Morticia**

Tangoes are instrumental, dear.

 _Gomez nods sagely as soon as Morticia says this, immediately reminded that she's correct._

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 **Morticia**

What about keening?

 **Pugsley**

I wish.

 _Pugsley sighs, not wanting to say it, but knowing that he has to._

 **Pugsley**

Ms Park is making me sing "Lollipop Tree".

 **Gomez**

Egad!

 _At the title of the song, Gomez seems to throw up in his mouth. He coughs, his body rocking forward. Morticia firmly places her hand on his back, giving it a few good whallops to clear Gomez's airways, trying to ensure he doesn't choke. In the end, however, he doesn't actually get sick. After a few seconds, he leans back, sweating now, but recovered from the brief shock. Morticia takes his pocket square from his pocket and wipes his forehead while he calms down._

 **Morticia**

Are you alright, darling?

 _Gomez nods, shooting her a devilish grin after a second, to which she responds with a quiet utterance of "darling…". Then, she turns back to Pugsley, who has watched silently the entire time._

 **Morticia**

Good gracious, angel. What cruelty!

 _Gomez nods, adding his thoughts._

G **omez**

Pugsley, lad, I understand completely!

 **Morticia**

Still, I think it best for you to perform that vile tune if it's what Ms Park wishes.

 _Pugsley sulks._

 **Pugsley**

But _whyyyyy/_

 **Morticia**

/You'll lose marks, darling! We can't have that!

 **Gomez**

To stray from your perfectly average score? Such a thing would be a travesty!

 **Morticia**

Exactly, dear. But you mustn't fret. Your father and I will both be _right there_ to watch your rendition!

 **Pugsley**

Are you sure it's safe?

 **Morticia**

How so?

 **Pugsley**

What if you or father became sick from listening to it?

 **Gomez**

Don't worry about a thing, son! We'll power through!

 **Pugsley**

Are you sure?

 **Morticia**

Of course! Now, go run along. We must inform Lurch.

 **Pugsley**

Alright! Thank you mother, thank you father!

 _Pugsley scampers away. Gomez and Morticia look at one another, letting all the information absorb into their brains. Finally, Gomez breaks the silence._

 **Gomez**

"Lollipop Tree"… barbaric, Tish. To force a child to sing such a wretched piece of musical tripe.

 _Morticia nods in agreement._

 **Morticia**

Oh, Gomez, dear. Sometimes I do wonder if that school of his is too cruel.

 **Gomez**

Poor devil. That song's enough to drive men with even the steeliest of constitutions mad!

 **Morticia**

I'll call for Lurch.

 _Morticia pulls the nearest noose, and Lurch arrives._

 **Lurch**

You rang?

 **Morticia**

Lurch, dear? Mr Addams and I are leaving you in charge of the house tomorrow evening. Pugsley is singing at a school concert.

 _Lurch seems to be in disbelief._

 **Lurch**

Singing?

 **Morticia**

Indeed.

 **Lurch**

Singing… what?

 _Gomez and Morticia exchange looks. They don't want to upset Lurch, but they want to tell the truth. Eventually, Gomez decides just to go for it._

 **Gomez**

"Lollipop Tree".

 _Lurch groans very loud, tears seeming to instantly form in his eyes. Gomez nods sympathetically._

 **Gomez**

Ridiculous, I know.

 **Morticia**

It's for his grade in music, Lurch.

 **Lurch**

 _Cruel!_

 **Gomez**

Precisely.

 **Morticia**

Now, Lurch. We _shall_ need your assistance to manoeuvre Mr Addams out of the house, but after we leave, the house shall be your responsibility, and you mustn't let Uncle Fester or Mama boss you about.

 _Lurch nods, deciding he ought to create Pugsley a care package following his performance in order to soften the blow of having had to perform "Lollipop Tree" to a live audience._

 **Lurch**

Care packages?

 **Gomez**

For Pugsley? Capital idea!

 _Morticia and Gomez both nod, agreeing that a care package would be a lovely, thoughtful touch._

 **Morticia**

He will most certainly need one, following what's bound to be such a traumatic experience.

 **Gomez**

Excellent thinking, Lurch.

 **Morticia**

You're so thoughtful.

Lurch blushes.

 **Gomez**

Lurch, I tell you what – you've got a heart as big as your head.

 _Lurch absorbs this information._

 **Lurch**

That's big.

 **Morticia**

Exactly.

 **Lurch**

Thank you, Mr Addams.

 **Gomez**

You're very welcome!

 **Morticia**

Now, Lurch, dear? I believe Mama's alligator is to be milked!

 _Lurch groans in understanding and goes off to milk the alligator, still blushing at Gomez and Morticia's words._

 _After he leaves, Gomez goes back to discussing his disapproval of the song choice._

 **Gomez**

Tish - why would a school enforce learning such an irksome song as part of its curriculum?

 **Morticia**

Let alone, my darling, enforcing the public performance of that same song?

 _Gomez shakes his head._

 **Gomez**

That lad. A bastion of bravery.

 **Morticia**

As are you, my dear.

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow, always happy to be complimented._

 **Gomez**

I am?

 **Morticia**

To willingly commit to the effort of leaving the house, knowing you'll be facing a live performance of… _said song?_ Even my own father would never have gone to such extremes to support Ophelia and I.

 _Gomez considers this for a moment, having not thought of it that way before._

 **Gomez**

You know, neither would my father.

 **Morticia**

Exactly, dear! You are a man of such noble character! A man of such sacrifice!

 _Gomez is now flattered too, getting more humble, but unable to deny that it's true._

 **Gomez**

It's for the boy. We must be with him in his hour of torture!

 **Morticia**

We must attempt to lift both his and our own spirits after the wretched event is finished.

 **Gomez**

Excellent thinking, querida. But what?

 _Morticia and Gomez contemplate in silence for a while._

 **Gomez**

Eureka!

 **Morticia**

What is it, dear? How shall we restore joy to our evenings following the ordeal?

 **Gomez**

Drive-Thru.

 _Gomez smiles, immensely proud of his idea, grinning wide-eyed. Morticia rolls her eyes lovingly and lays a kiss on her husband's cheek. She's tickled by his relatively juvenile idea of a reward, knowing it's exactly what both him and Pugsley will want after enduring a school concert._

 _Morticia shakes her head, in an "oh you" fashion, unable to conceal her amusement as she lays another kiss on her husband's cheek. As she does, Gomez turns his head to kiss her back._

 **Morticia**

 _Darling…_


	61. Day 209

_Gomez and Morticia are readying to enter the school hall. It is the next day,_

 _and Pugsley is about to perform the dreaded song - Lollipop Tree. Outside, they chat with easy other, preparing to enter_

 **Morticia**

Now, Gomez, dear. Are we prepared? Have you readied yourself for what we are about to bear witness to?

 _Gomez nods, somewhat uneasily. Morticia runs her hand through his hair,l absentmindedly as they enter the auditorium of the school._

 **Gomez**

I think so, cara mia.

 **Morticia**

Alright. We must simply bring our focus to something else. Something not altogether ghastly. Like sludge metal! Or "screamo"! Remind ourselves that true musical beauty does exist in this world.

 **Gomez**

Ah, yes.

 _Gomez closes his eyes and smiles, thinking about screamo._

 **Gomez**

Only a pity those screamo groups haven't yet incorporated the harpsichord into their music!

 **Morticia**

Oh, yes, darling. How true! The gentle lull of the harpsichord would bring out the gradual-yet-intense tearing of the performers' vocal cords so wonderfully!

 **Gomez**

Say - why haven't we seen screamo/tango fusion groups?

 **Morticia**

Perhaps the world isn't ready yet. Though, it does sound lovely. But later, Gomez. Remember the task at hand! Let us just take a deep breath and focus.

 **Gomez**

Might be a little too tough for me at the moment, my dear.

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling! I'm so sorry. I forgot.

 _Gomez smiles, he doesn't mind. He just was being cheeky._

 **Morticia**

I suppose ever since your speech has improved, I have forgotten you need that contraption. We ought to work with Dr Arendash to get you weaned off from it.

 _Gomez nods sagely._

 **Gomez**

We must indeed, querida mia. Why, I've forgotten how it is to have an unpunctured trachea!

 _The Swensons pass Morticia and Gomez by, giving them a look._

 **Gomez**

Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr Blowhard!

 **Mr Swenson**

He speaks!

 **Mrs Swenson**

Could you speak up a bit?

 **Mr Swenson**

And maybe enunciate?

 _Morticia flips out, snapping at them rather uncharacteristically. She just doesn't have the time to be doing any of this. She already has Lollipop Tree on her plate._

 **Morticia**

My darling Gomez is enunciating as best he can! How do _you_ think you would sound if you hadn't spoken for over six months?

 **Mr Swenson**

Not like him, I wager.

 **Morticia**

The muscles in his face and mouth and tongue all atrophied from lack of use, Mr Swenson! If such a thing had happened to you, you _would_ sound slurred! You _would_ sound _much the sam_ e as my darling Gomez does now.

 _Gomez flicks the joystick, using his hands and arms in a very controlled manner. He's not at 100% with them, but it's a drastic improvement to what the Swensons saw before and it does freak them out a bit. His flicking the joystick drives him right over to Mr Swenson, getting defensive._

 **Gomez**

Swenson, you are trying my patience.

 **Mr Swenson**

Oh, am I now? Well let me remind you, how _you_ tried our patience a few weeks ago, and/

 **Gomez**

/Ah, capital, old man! I believe you understood what I said!

 _Gomez raises an eyebrow, mock-quizically._

 **Gomez**

Why all this uproar about my speech, when it turns out you're able enough to hear and understand me after all? Or, you're grasping at straws, seeking any way possible to undermine me in front of my beautiful wife.

 **Mrs Swenson**

You stay away from us. After what you said about Clementine...

 **Mr Swenson**

You're lucky we didn't slam you for defamation of character.

 **Morticia**

Don't you recall? My husband is a lawyer, Mr Swenson. If you think a simple lawsuit would be enough to sink him, you are gravely mistaken. Only a complicated lawsuit can sink Mr Addams!

 **Gomez**

Right you are, Tish.

 _He sighs, always impressed by her words._

 **Gomez**

Now, begone! I am here to support my son.

 _The Swensons walk away in a huff. Gomez seems satisfied._

 **Gomez**

Ha! Tish, I dragged old Swenson through the mud there, wouldn't you say?

 **Morticia**

A true Addams _dragging_. You _are_ so enchanting when you're assertive.

 **Ms Park**

Ladies and gentlemen!

 _Gomez turns to Morticia._

 **Gomez**

That's us!

 _They both nod sagely._

 **Ms Park**

Now, for our music class's performances! Going first, singing _Lollipop Tree_ is Pugsley Addams.

 _Scattered clapping is heard from an already-bored audience. However, there is fervent, enthusiastic applause from Morticia and Gomez. Gomez is now able to raise his arms and hands enough to clap modestly._

 _Pugsley stomps out onto the stage looking miserable. Morticia takes her husband's hand._

 **Morticia**

Oh, darling.

 _Gomez can't help but smile, already amused._

 **Gomez**

Look at the lad! Such charisma! Such stage presence!

 **Morticia**

His father's son.

 **Gomez** _(lovingly)_

His mother's daughter. _(realizing what he said)_ Wait.

 _Pugsley adjusts the mic. Feedback noise plays everywhere. This piercing sound is music to Morticia and Gomez's ears. They both look at each other, starry eyed, at the beautiful soundscape around them. Finally, Pugsley is ready._

 **Pugsley**

Ahem.

 _He takes a deep breath, and like a hostage recording a plea video against their will, he begins._

 **Pugsley**

 _One fine day in early spring I played a funny trick_

 _Out in the yard behind my house I planted a lollipop stick_

 _Every day I watered it well and watched it carefully -_

 _The music keeps going, but Pugsley stops. Then the music cuts out. Gomez and Morticia, both thinking it's over, breathe sighs of relief and begin clapping._

 _Everyone shushes them. The room is so awkwardly silent until Pugsley just begins belting out a new song._

 **Pugsley**

 _WHEN I WAS_

 _A YOUNG BOY_

 _Gomez and Morticia look delightedly at each other and join in, Morticia singing modestly well, Gomez very excited, but as slurred and wheezy as one might expect._

 **Pugsley / Morticia / Gomez**

 _MY FATHER_

 _TOOK ME INTO THE CITY_

 _TO SEE A MARCHING BAND_

 _But suddenly, Ms Park hurries on the stage and ushers Pugsley off. Pugsley remains singing whilst being pulled off the stage. Ms Park glares at Morticia and Gomez who are still singing, though Morticia has risen to her feet with outrage. She just shoots a disapproving glare to Ms Park, who is gesturing for them to follow her outside._


End file.
